Cold Defense
by GlassHawk
Summary: Nobody cares about hockey. This is the mentality of a local Arendelle high school, one that hasn't been good at the sport in a while. But can some transfer kid from the U.S. who plays defense (and only defense) help change that? And who knows, maybe more than just the team will change too. Modern AU. Chapter 13 is up.
1. Chapter 1

**How's it going. Well, I guess this here is my first fic with multiple chapters (at least it will be soon), so... great? I don't know, I guess it's a happy occasion, lol.**

 **I can't say I'm a huge Frozen fan, and I'm definitely not one of those Disney fanatics, but this idea has been gnawing at my brain for a little while. I've wanted to write a story about ice hockey, and seeing how Frozen would be the ideal setting for that, it all fit together.**

 **This is a modern AU, featuring my OC (Adam) and most of the cast from the movie. Not everyone's gonna have a major role, but all of the main characters from the film will.**

 **If you don't know anything about hockey, don't worry about it. All of the rules you need to know will be stated in the story when necessary.**

 **There really should be a "sports" label that you can use for your stories.**

 **Well, I guess I'm out of things to say, so on with the story.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Frozen. Never have, never will.**

Present

 _"Thoughts"_

 **Author's Note**

* * *

Cold Defense

* * *

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have reached our destination. Now that the plane has come to a complete stop, you may unfasten your seat belts at this time."

Adam groaned as he stretched his arms, thankful that the long flight was over. As he undid his seatbelt, he glanced behind him, noticing the large amount of people getting up; being at the front of the plane meant he would have to be one of the last ones out, taking manners into consideration. Sighing to himself, he went to retrieve his luggage underneath his seat.

"What's wrong, son?" asked a calming, almost monotone voice to his right, clearly having just been awoken from a nap.

"Nothing, Dad," he hastily replied, fumbling with the suitcase that was now jammed beneath his seat.

Adam wasn't necessarily being truthful with that statement. Moving to a foreign land after living in one location for your whole life is something that could be considered "wrong." Being forced to begin school the very next day is something that could be considered worse, in quite a few ways. And to put the cherry on top, he couldn't get his luggage out from under his seat. Great.

Finally jamming it loose, and almost hitting himself on the nose in the process, Adam quickly stood up, only to instead hit his head on the low lying ceiling. He could hear someone snickering in the background.

No, nothing's wrong at all _._

Now that the general procession of people had cleared out, Adam and his father could finally leave. Stepping out into the aisle, both father and son exited the plane, trudging through the jetway and into the terminal. The first steps into their new lives.

Once inside the airport, Adam glanced around. The flag of Arendelle was one of the first things that caught his eye, resting above flight attendant's desk behind him. Glancing around the terminal and into the hallway, the airport was about what he expected; a few people sitting in the many seats waiting to board their flights, people in suits hurrying to their destinations, a cafe or two, etc. It was very similar to the airport located where, at least what he considered, his real home was.

Adam was born in St. Paul, Minnesota, to Patrick and Melissa Nolan. He wasn't particularly exceptional looking: with short brown hair, matching brown eyes, and no facial features that really stood out, he was about as average as they come. For 17 years, Minnesota was what he called home, where he grew up, where he became the person he was. It felt like it would never change; he had the same surroundings for his whole life. And he didn't mind one bit. He loved where he lived. It was home.

Until two months ago. When everything that he was familiar with came crashing down.

Adam's father was a college professor, specializing in science, chemistry in particular. Adam's mother was an insurance agent, working for the company's division based in Minnesota. Everything would change, however, when Patrick received an offer from the University of Arendelle.

To say this was a shock would be a slight understatement. Why would a foreign university offer a college professor based in the U.S. a job in their own science department? It was true Patrick had gained a reputation as one of the most effective science teachers around, but it just seemed random, almost like drawing a name out of a hat.

With curiosity taking hold, Adam did a little poking around. After looking through a few documents he knew his father wouldn't have wanted him to see, Adam learned the REAL reason this school was giving his father an offer to essentially transfer: Patrick had arranged for it himself. It turns out he had been snooping around for a couple years now, looking for a job he felt would provide a better situation for himself and his family. Apparently that job was in Arendelle.

Naturally, when his parents first informed him they would have to move abroad, Adam immediately resisted the idea. How could you think of removing someone from the environment they've grown so familiar with, at this juncture? It would only be 1 more year of high school until college; it's not like his time in his familiar cocoon wasn't running out anyways. Why change things now?

Unfortunately for Adam, these observations seemed to fall on deaf ears. With the job in Arendelle paying better than Patrick's current job in Minnesota, as well as Melissa also being able to secure a job in Arendelle with the same insurance company, the move was set in stone. It was only a question of when.

As his junior year came to an end, Adam had to say his goodbyes to his friends and relatives living in the area. He had known many of them for well over a decade; having to say goodbye now, so unexpectedly, was certainly tough on everyone involved. Especially his team.

Growing up in Minnesota meant Adam, along with many other teenagers his age and younger, played hockey. It was very common; enormous amounts of children played at least some form of organized hockey at some point. The nickname the State of Hockey did not come without good reason.

Adam was a defenseman for his school's team. Defenseman aren't usually glorified as much as the forwards, considering the forwards are the ones who score the goals, the ones who make the highlight reel plays. Guys like Adam were typically more in the shadows, not unnoticed, but not universally appreciated as much as they should be.

That's not to say Adam and the other defensemen didn't have an important role; you could argue theirs was the most important of all. The forwards are the ones who need to get the lead, but the defensemen, as well as the goalie, are the ones who need to protect it, sometimes in the most crucial of situations. In addition, solid defense gives the entire team a building block to base their strategy, knowing that the guys in the back can be counted on time and time again to come up with the big stop, the game saving play.

Of course, there can be a slight flaw: defensemen still need to chip in offensively too. A defense that can spark their team's offense in addition to maintaining good defense in their own end makes a team all the more lethal. A 2 way defenseman is the term when describing an individual player who does this: a defenseman who is both offensively and defensively sound.

Adam is most certainly not that defenseman. While his defense was considered phenomenal by nearly every coach he's ever had, his offensive game... often left something to be desired. Sure, he could make the wide open pass to a teammate, but that was it. He couldn't be counted on to skate with the puck, his shot was abysmal, his passing under pressure was poor, etc. There wasn't a lot to like.

It wasn't like Adam didn't have the physique to be a competent offensive player. Standing at exactly 6 feet, he was about average size when it came to hockey, perhaps even a bit big for his age. Weighing in at 150-155 pounds, he wasn't particularly bulky, but he was fairly mobile, being able to get around the rink fairly quickly.

Defensively, however, Adam was a prodigy. He could get in the way of the other team's forwards. Sacrifice the body to block a shot. Steal the puck. Poke it away from the other team's stick. He could kill penalties. It seemed as if he could thrive in any defensive scenario, no matter the stakes.

This stark contrast left both coaches and teammates divided on how good a player Adam really was: some considered him gifted, other's almost a hinderance at times. It really depended on who you asked. Despite these different opinions on his value to the team as a player, one thing was for certain: he and the team as a group were tight knit.

Having grown up with them, Adam shared a bond with his teammates. He had played with many of them for the majority of his young hockey career, and saying goodbye so suddenly was a tough pill to swallow. The team was just gearing up to take one more crack at the title next season when Adam announced he wouldn't be a part of it.

When the move was announced in June, the family decided to have a moving away party in July, one in which the whole team attended. After gathering them all together, they all said their final goodbyes, knowing they probably would never see their most sound defensive player and, more importantly, their friend again. None of them cried, however. You save that for winning the championship. Adam knew it, and they knew it.

That, however, was all last month. Adam needed to focus on the now.

Snapping out of his daydreams, Adam quickly looked around the terminal again, spotting his father checking information on a flight board. After glancing over the various cities and times, he pulled out his phone, speed dialing Melissa to let them know they had arrived.

Adam's mother was not on the flight: she had left a week ahead to set up their new home in Arendelle. This meant that the house would at least have some stuff they would need already set up, as she had a little extra time before everyone had to settle in.

It's a good thing too, considering Adam had school tomorrow.

Retrieving their remaining luggage, Adam and his father headed to the front of the airport to wait for Melissa: she was also able to get their vehicle registered in Arendelle before Adam and Patrick arrived. Taking the spare to time to observe his surroundings more closely, Adam noticed very few differences from the airport back in Minnesota, the same conclusion he had arrived at back in the terminal. Still, he figured to himself, it was just an airport. It would probably be a good idea to wait until they arrived at their new house to make any serious comparisons.

A few minutes later, a light blue car pulled up to the curb. As the door swung open, Adam saw his mom for the first time in over a week. He supposed he should be happy, but he really had more mixed emotions. It was just another reminder of his situation. What exactly was he doing here?

After the hellos and I missed you's and this and that, the family packed up their luggage and took off. Once the airport was behind them, Adam took yet another look around. There wasn't a lot to look at: just fields. The town was probably up a little ways away. Hopefully. At least they drove on the right side of the road here, like in the United States.

As the car passed by a few roadway signs, Adam had his first encounter with what he figured would be the biggest obstacle while living in Arendelle: the language barrier. How? Simple: all the signs were in Swedish. He knew Swedish was the official language of Arendelle, but he had never studied it; it wasn't even offered at what now must be considered his old school. All of this just added to the sensation of feeling completely lost for Adam.

Just as Adam was about to shut his eyes for a few minutes, his father's voice broke up the silence that had engulfed the car since the ride began.

"Well, Adam, what do you think so far?" asked Patrick, looking back to face his son.

Sighing to himself a little bit, Adam replied "I don't know, all we've done is walk around the airport and sit in this car. It's kinda hard to make first impressions based on that."

"Well, I'm sure you'll have a very positive first impression when we arrive at the house. The neighborhood is quite nice," Adam's mom chimed in.

After 10 more minutes of silence after that little conversation, the car pulled onto a street containing a row of houses. Stopping in front of the one at the very end of the road, Adam's mother put the car in park and shut it off, indicating the voyage was over.

Stepping out of the car, Adam glanced up, looking at his family's new house. He could hear his mother ask him "Well, how do you like it?"

The only thought that came to Adam's mind was that it was very similar to home. He was about to give the generic "it's nice" reply when it once again dawned on him that he was no longer in Minnesota. Minnesota was no longer home. This was home. Whether he wanted it to be or not (and he definitely did not), his home was now here. And he certainly didn't welcome the change.

Adam replied by sighing.

* * *

 **And there we go. The end of Chapter 1 (cue the confetti). Woo.**

 **This chapter was meant to set the table for the story. The plot will really begin in the next chapter, when the characters we're all reading this story for make their first appearances.**

 **I'm presuming Arendelle is based off of a Scandinavian kingdom, so I chose for it to be based off of Sweden. Thus, any foreign elements in the story, such as language, culture, etc. will be Swedish. I'm not gonna try to get into the specifics of where Arendelle is located, though. Let's just assume it's somewhere in Europe.**

 **DESPITE ALL THIS, TO KEEP THINGS SIMPLER FOR THE STORY, ARENDELLE WILL BE USING THE U.S. SCHOOL SYSTEM. Because Sweden's upper secondary school is optional, as well as being divided in several different subjects, it would all start to get very confusing. I'm also fairly certain they don't have sports teams in Swedish schools, which would screw up the entire plot. Therefore, Adam will still be entering his senior year, just like he would be in the United States.**

 **And just in case anyone was wondering, I do not live in Minnesota, nor am I a Minnesota fan. But lots of kids play hockey there, right? XD**

 **Well, I guess that's it. As I said before, this chapter was meant to open the story; the plot will really begin in the next one.**

 **Have a nice day.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello, and welcome back to Cold Defense. I hope you've been enjoying the story so far, but to be fair, there's only been 1 chapter, so there hasn't been very much to base your opinion off of. More is coming, don't worry XD.**

 **As I stated previously, a few (but not all) of the characters will debut in this chapter. Things are really chugging along now, lol.**

 **So, with all of that being said, on with the story.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Frozen. Never have, never will.**

Present

 _"Thoughts"_

 **Author's Note**

* * *

"Adam, wake up. It's time to get ready for school."

Slowly coming to his senses, Adam looked around his nearly completely barren room. His father, who had just awoken him, had already departed, leaving Adam alone to take in his "surroundings" on the first morning of his new life. While his mother, with the extra week she had before the rest of the family arrived, had enough time to set up some of their furniture downstairs, the upper level of their new home wasn't so fortunate. With only his bed and a nightstand with an alarm clock positioned in Adam's room, there wasn't anything to look at except out the window and at the faded paint.

Forcing himself to get out of bed, Adam glanced at the clock: the bright screen stated 5:45 AM. Nearly in disbelief at how early he needed to get up just to ensure he would be on time, he tiredly stumbled his way to the window, taking a look out at his new street.

Being the final house in a long row of them, Adam looked to the right: there were many houses very similar to his own, with a few differences on each one. Comparing his family's to the others, he couldn't really come up with any criticisms or compliments for each side: he was too tired to do so.

A loud yell from his father shattered the silence, bringing Adam back to his senses. "Adam! Hurry up and get in the shower or you'll be late!"

With a groan, Adam reaffirmed he was awake, replying with "I'm going, I'm going!"

Heading across the hall to the bathroom, Adam changed out of his pajamas and hopped in.

After getting the water running, his thoughts began to wander towards his new school. His parents had filled him in on a few details before they left Minnesota, and he tried his best to remember them.

Adam knew that it was an English speaking school. He was extremely thankful for this, as he did not want to have to attempt to discern what the teachers and such would be saying to him in Swedish (although he would be taking Swedish in his new school, the schedule arrived in the mail a few days before they left). In addition, it seemed like it actually be very similar to school in the U.S., with many of the same courses being offered. It actually seemed like it would be okay, except for the most important detail: his fellow students.

Moving to a foreign land meant he had absolutely no idea what to expect when it came to his peers. Would they be similar to the people he knew at his school in Minnesota? Would everyone be completely different? Worse still, what if they didn't like him? Maybe they had something against new people or whatever, the possibilities were truly endless.

Turning off the shower and wrapping himself in a few towels, Adam dried himself off, still thinking about school. He wasn't nervous about very much, but he would be lying if he said he wasn't nervous about his new school. He simply could not predict what would await him.

Now sufficiently dry, Adam went to the suitcase in his room, still wrapped in towels, picking the clothes he packed for today ahead of time: the new school also did not have uniforms, thankfully.

Changing into his wardrobe, Adam once again looked at the clock: it now read 6:10 AM. Sighing for what felt like the billionth time in the past 2 days, he headed back to the bathroom, to comb the mop that currently resided on his head. His hair wasn't long, but it could get messy easily.

After straightening his hair using the comb he made sure to pack in his suitcase, Adam looked at himself in the mirror. He was dressed extremely casually, his outfit consisting of black gym shorts with a blue t-shirt. He knew first impressions were important, but he didn't want to look too overblown. At the same time, however, he didn't want to look like a bum or something. Settling for the middle ground, he chose this outfit, considering it was what he most often wore in Minnesota. He knew he wouldn't be able to much longer, seeing how Arendelle was just as cold as Minnesota in the winter, and the winter came quick.

Satisfied with his appearance, Adam headed downstairs, joining his parents in the kitchen. Just like upstairs, there wasn't very much set up. The only noticeable things were the kitchen table, a few chairs, and the coffee machine. Adam chuckled to himself seeing this, knowing how much his parents loved coffee.

Upon entering the room, his father was the first one to pipe up, asking him "Did you sleep well?"

"Good enough, I guess," Adam replied. "I just wish I didn't have to get up so early."

"You'll get used to it, the change in time zones will sink in eventually," chirped his mother. "Come on, I'll drive you to school. You don't really have time to eat breakfast."

Groaning to himself, Adam went to retrieve his backpack that his mother laid out in the kitchen for him. Taking a final sip of her coffee, Melissa got up from the table, setting down her mug and grabbing her purse. Taking the car keys out of it, she headed for the front door, Adam behind her.

Just as he was about to exit the house, Adam heard his father yell "Good luck on your first day of school!"

"Thanks," Adam thought to himself. "I'll need it."

Getting in the passenger front seat, Adam's mother took the drivers side. After adjusting the mirrors and the like, she started up the car, putting it into drive, beginning the trek to Adam's first meaningful experience in Arendelle.

After a few minutes of silence looking out the window, Adam asked his mother "How far away is the school?"

"About ten minutes. I drove by the area a few days ago. It looks very nice," came the reply.

Once again continuing his absentminded gazing out the window, Adam leaned back in his seat. Noticing her son's actions, Melissa asked him if something was wrong.

"No. Nothing's wrong." Adam answered, despite this being a lie.

"Sweetie, I can tell if something bothering you. Are you sure you don't want to at least talk?" countered his mother.

Realizing she caught him red handed, Adam loudly exhaled, deciding to change course and instead speak what was on his mind.

"Yes, something's wrong. What am I doing here? What are WE doing here? Why did we need to move? Are things just so much better here that we could simply pack up and leave where we've been for years without a second thought? Why did Dad feel the need to have a "new opportunity?" Was the old one really so awful that we just HAD to get out of there as soon as possible?"

"Honey, you know this was a difficult decision..." Melissa began to reply.

Not bothering to let his mom finish, Adam interrupted. "Garbage. If it was so difficult, we wouldn't have moved at all. If it was so difficult, you and Dad would have thought about it, and realized we were fine back home. But because the job at the stupid university here pays more, YOU and DAD, not ME, decided it would be perfect, not even bothering to care about what I had to say about it."

Raising her voice slightly, Melissa interrupted her son's interruption, stating "Adam, there were many things to take into account besides money. We had to consider what the future holds for you, for us as a family. We had to consider how things were going in our old jobs. There were many sides to the puzzle. In the end, we decided moving here was our best option. I know it doesn't seem like that now, but it will soon. I promise."

Processing what his mother just told him, Adam countered with "But you still didn't tell me we were moving until the decision was made. Did you not think it was important to get my input? I'm sure you can tell by now I'm not exactly a fan of us being here."

"Of course we thought about you. As much as we wanted to make you as happy as possible, we knew there would be some anger involved when we decided to move, no matter where we were going. We're only trying to do what's best for you, for all of us."

Adam opened his mouth to respond, but he didn't get the chance, instead being met with the phrase he had been dreading since the car ride began: "We're here."

Looking out his window, Adam took a long look at the school. The building itself wasn't that unusual: it was almost the picture perfect example of a generic high school. Looking above the entrance of what appeared to be an office, the words "Central Arendelle High School" were carved into the wall, clearly serving as a sign. Adam was sure there was more in the back of the school, but he couldn't see it from where the car was, waiting to enter the parking lot.

Shifting his attention to the front, Adam realized nobody was outside the school. This made him feel uneasy; was everyone already inside? Would he have to walk into class on his first day late?

 _"Calm down",_ Adam thought, looking at the clock in the car. Reading the time, 6:30 AM, he dug his schedule out of his bag and looked at the top: his first class wasn't set to begin for another 15 minutes.

Sighing in relief, Adam resumed observing his surroundings as his mother pulled the car up to the curb, before coming to a stop.

"Well, honey, I have to let you off here. Please don't let our little argument affect your day," said Melissa, as Adam was exiting the vehicle.

Finding it difficult to take his mother's words to heart, Adam responded with a gruff "Yeah, right," that sounded meaner than he intended.

Closing the car door behind him, Adam walked to the front door of the school, hearing the vehicle pull out of the parking lot and away from the building. As he grabbed the handle of the door leading into the school, he suddenly hesitated, with only one thought coursing through his mind: "Well, here we go."

Yanking the door open, Adam stepped inside. The front door he had entered through led to the office, consisting of a desk with a woman behind it, a table, and a few chairs.

Walking to the double doors on the other side of the room leading into a hallway, Adam was stopped by the lady, as she asked him "ID, please."

"Uhhhh..." was the only sound that came from Adam. He didn't know he needed an ID. He wasn't even sure he had one; he was willing to guess he didn't.

Fortunately, these anxious thoughts were put to rest, as the woman followed up on her previous statement. "If you have your schedule, that's all we need. It has your ID number on it."

Exhaling in relief, as well as questioning to himself why he never noticed this on the paper, Adam walked over to the counter, handing his schedule to the woman's outstretched arm. After entering a few things into the computer on the desk, she spoke up:

"New here, huh? And from the United States, too. You nervous?"

Adam was surprised by this; it was as if she read his mind. Nonetheless, he quickly responded. "Yeah, I'd say so. You wouldn't happen to know where the first class I have is?"

Handing him his schedule back, she looked up from the computer for the first time, saying "Take a right and the end of the hall leading out those doors, and it should be about three doors down. And don't be nervous, I'm sure things will be fine."

Thanking the lady for her help, Adam once again headed for the double doors leading to the hallway he tried to go through a few minutes ago, only to again be interrupted, this time by the door leading outside.

Hearing it rattle open, Adam glanced behind him, only to be met by quite the sight: the kid who just entered the office was HUGE. Estimating him to be at least a few inches taller than Adam, as well as a minimum of 40-50 pounds heavier, this guy was a behemoth. He also had on this hood and scarf that covered his whole face, although Adam could tell he had blond hair underneath it all, as it was sprawled everywhere from under this hood.

Continuing to stare at this kid as he lowered the scarf covering his face, he handed his schedule (and an ID card) to the lady behind the desk. It was then he finally noticed Adam standing there, gaping.

"What are you staring at?" was the question that came from him.

Realizing he hadn't moved since this kid walked into the office, Adam quickly looked away, replying with a quick "Nothing." He was just about to enter the hallway when the kid spoke up again.

"Hey, wait up," he said, grabbing his ID and schedule from the desk lady as he caught up to Adam.

"I don't think I've seen you around before. What's your name?" was the second question from this as of now mystery kid.

"Adam. And I'm new here, so no, you wouldn't have seen me before," Adam quickly replied. He wanted to get to class quickly: there were only a few minutes left.

"Nice. My name's Kristoff. Let me tell you, we could use some new people around here. It's just the same old stuff every year, it seems," said the kid now known as Kristoff.

"I wish things could be like that," mumbled Adam under his breath. He didn't intend for Kristoff to hear him, but he did.

"What was that?" said Kristoff.

"Nothing," replied Adam.

Realizing there were only a few minutes left until class started, Adam said "Well, it was nice meeting you, but class is starting in a few minutes, and I gotta get to my room." It was only then when he realized that he didn't remember the directions the office lady had just given him. Cursing himself in his mind for his foolishness, he turned to Kristoff, who was still walking next to him. "Hey, do you know where this room is?" he asked as he handed the larger boy his schedule.

Taking the paper from Adam and glancing over it, Kristoff responded with "Yeah, it's right down there. Hey, you have the same first class as me! How about that?", handing the paper back to Adam.

"Wonderful," came the reply from Adam in the most earnest tone he could manage. He was still wary of the new school and such, and he wasn't exactly sure he wanted to get all chummy with people right off the bat. Still, he needed to get to his first class, one that he apparently shared with Kristoff.

Following him down the hall, Adam and Kristoff eventually came to the room. Glancing in the window, he could see that the room was mostly full, with the teacher sitting at her desk and the other kids chatting amongst themselves.

Swinging the door open, Kristoff entered the room, Adam following behind. Kristoff was immediately called over by a group in the back, leaving Adam to stand alone in the middle of the room. Taking a quick look around, there was only one open desk, in the back of the class. Quickly slinking over to it and taking a seat, Adam looked at the people he would be sharing this class with: nobody seemed outlandish, but there were a few that would probably be considered "oddballs" back at school in the United States. _Get all of that out of your head, Adam, focus on what's going on now,_ Adam thought to himself.

Taking a look around the room, the first thing that came to mind was the lack of decorations: there were no posters, no windows, nothing. All that was here was an old fashioned chalkboard. The room itself was painted a dull gray, as if the only purpose was to induce drowsiness. The first comparison that came to Adam's mind was that of a prison cell. He had obviously never been to prison, so he hoped that comparison would fade quickly, but he wasn't exactly counting on it.

Shifting his eyes to the front of the room, he looked at the teacher: she appeared to be in her early 40s, with short brown hair reaching down over her ears. She was wearing a purple dress, clearly choosing to dress formal for the first day of school.

Upon looking around again, Adam noticed that nearly everyone except for himself and, strangely enough, Kristoff were all dressed in nice clothing, clearly taking pride in their appearances on the first day. Adam and Kristoff, who were both dressed in athletic clothing, stuck out like a sore thumb. Still, it didn't seem to bother Kristoff too much, so Adam supposed it shouldn't bother himself either.

Although he didn't like eavesdropping, Adam tried to pick up a few snippets of dialogue flying around the room; he could hear a few people speaking what he identified as Swedish, although most were speaking English with a noticeable accent, Kristoff included. From the few phrases he could phrase together through all the scattered talk, nobody seemed to have noticed that there was a new student amongst them, something Adam took relief in.

All of the talk, however, was brought to a halt by a loud tapping noise from the front of the room; the teacher was trying to get the attention of the class. Now that she had it, she stood up, moving in front of the chalkboard.

"Good morning, class, and welcome to the first day of the school year. My name is Mrs. Fredriksen, but I'm sure most of you already know that, considering I've had nearly all of you in previous classes before."

This resulted in a small chuckle from a few people in the class. This made Adam uneasy, however; the key word was "nearly".

As if she read his mind like the office lady, Mrs. Fredriksen continued. "With that being said however, it seems we have a new student, and one from the United States at that. Would you please come to the front of the class?"

By this point, most people in the class had begun searching for this student, who didn't seem to be around. All attention was brought to the back of the room, however, as Adam got up from his chair. Despite doing his best to look confident, Adam was a nervous wreck on the inside. Did she really need to call him up to the front of the room?

Taking his place in front of the chalkboard, Adam surveyed his new classmates' faces: most appeared interested, a few indifferent, and a few not even looking up at all. Kristoff looked among those mildly interested.

Being broken out of his thoughts again by the teacher, she calmly asked him "So, would you please tell us your name and perhaps a few things about yourself?"

Shuffling his feet nervously, Adam took a deep breath, and collected his answers. "My name is Adam Nolan. I'm from St. Paul, Minnesota, in the United States. I don't really have many interests, although I've played hockey for the past 10 years or so."

Kristoff perked up at that little bit of information. This new kid played hockey?

Determining this to be sufficient, Mrs. Fredriksen allowed Adam to sit, which he gratefully did. Once again positioned in the back of the room, Adam sank a little low in his seat, feeling like he had humiliated himself somehow.

Once again seated at her desk, Mrs. Fredriksen started taking attendance. Starting with Adam's name, she merely mumbled to herself that she already knew he was here. Adam only caught a few names, not really paying attention due to his worried thoughts: Kristoff, Anna, Olaf, whatever. He would find out later.

Once this was done, Mrs. Fredriksen took her position at the front of the room once more, gaining the attention of the class again. She rambled on about how important this class would be, what to expect, etc. The generic first day stuff.

Eventually, the bell rang, signaling it was time to move on to the next class. Grabbing his backpack, Adam started to head out the door, only to be stopped by Kristoff and a few of his friends.

"Hey, Adam! I want you to meet a few friends of mine." Kristoff said. There were 4 people amongst the group, including himself and Kristoff: Adam didn't know the names of the other two, since he didn't listen during attendance. "Right, so this headcase over here is Olaf," looking at the kid on the far left, who had a big goofy grin glued to his face, "while this party animal right here is Sven," nudging the guy next to him.

Confused with the choice of words, Adam asked "Party animal?"

"It's just a nickname; I'm definitely not an animal. I don't know why this BUM calls me that," replied Sven, putting special emphasis on his own insult.

"Ah, shut up. Adam, I noticed the 2nd class on your schedule is the same as all of ours. C'mon, let's go," said Kristoff, leading the way down the hall.

Following the group, Adam looked at his circle of... friends? If that was the case, it sure didn't take very long to get acquainted. In any event, after largely tuning out their conversation, he started with Sven. Like Kristoff, Sven was pretty big, although not as big as the blond. He had this brown mop top, very similar to the Beatles. Huh.

Moving on to Olaf, who was laughing hysterically about something someone said, the most glaring thing was that this kid was PALE. It wasn't quite to the point that it looked like he had no pigmentation in his skin, but it was pretty close. In addition, he was a few inches shorter than Adam, as well as having a very small amount of jet black hair.

Just as he was about to continue his observations, this time on other people in the hall, Adam heard his name mentioned, leading him to say "What?" while snapping his head to his left, considering he was at the far right of the group.

After clearing his throat, Kristoff looked at Adam, repeating what he said the first time: "I said, do you still play hockey?"

* * *

 **And cut. I think this is a good point to leave the chapter off, not too steep a cliffhanger or anything like that.**

 **This is the first time I've ever really written anything with extended dialogue, so if there's something I need to be doing that I'm not, please let me know. Any observations (good or bad) are appreciated, as they help me become a better writer. No flaming, however. Don't do that.**

 **I think this chapter is good, but it has a few flaws. For one thing, it feels like it runs on at times. This probably won't be a problem in future chapters, considering the story is gonna pick up steam, but I still need to work on pacing.**

 **I'm not sure if I did a good enough job conveying Adam's emotions in the conversation with his mother. It kinda feels like I just reiterated what has already been stated. I definitely think this is something I can improve on in the future.**

 **I know I left out a few movie characters from the class in this chapter. This was done for a reason, rest assured. Speaking of the classes, I'm not really gonna try to put emphasis on what everyone's taking and this and that, unless it's needed for the plot. There will be instances where it IS necessary, however.**

 **Well. that's about it. I'm not gonna beg you to review or anything, but if you do, you have my personal thanks or something, lol.**

 **Have a nice day.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hi again, and welcome back to Cold Defense. I hope you've been enjoying the story so far.**

 **Before we get started, I'd just like to give a big thank you to everyone who's been reading the story. It was certainly a surprise waking up and seeing people are favoriting, following, reviewing, etc. Still, I won't get complacent. The chapters will keep coming, take it to the bank XD.**

 **In the event anyone was wondering, if you don't know anything about hockey, don't worry about it. I'll put the rules in the story as they're needed. I've gone back and put this in the first chapter as well, in addition to fixing a few errors I noticed.**

 **Okay, enough from me. On with the story.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Frozen. Never have, never will.**

Present

 _"Thoughts"_

 **Author's Note**

 _ **Flashback**_ **(this is literally only used for the line directly below)**

* * *

 _ **After clearing his throat, Kristoff looked at Adam, repeating what he said the first time: "I said, do you still play hockey?"**_

* * *

Adam looked back at the taller boy with a strange look, as if it was a foolish question. Lightly nodding his head, he replied "Of course. I've played for the past 10 years. Why?"

"Curious." he quickly answered, turning his attention back in front of him. Adam wanted to go into more detail about why he would ask this; it felt like he was almost hiding something. Just as he was about to press further, however, Olaf excitedly announced "We're here!", confirming their arrival at their next destination.

With the group quickly filing into the room, Adam was glad they were among the first ones to arrive, rather than his previous class in which he and Kristoff were the last two to walk in. Glancing up at the board, however, spoiled this brief sense of relief, as he was met with the dreaded enemy of classroom enjoyment: a seating chart.

Scanning across the rows, Adam finally found his name. Just like in his previous class, he was situated at the back. He was hoping he wouldn't have to speak in front of the class again just because he was new, but he wasn't holding his breath.

As Adam made his way to his seat, he heard Kristoff and Olaf silently complaining, as it seemed neither of them had seats near each other or anyone else in the group.

Upon taking his seat, Adam checked the chart again; he noticed that Sven would be sitting to his right. Although he didn't know him nearly as well as Kristoff (although he still didn't know ANYONE particularly well), he figured he could ask him about Kristoff's unusual behavior from the hallway. It was still bugging him why he would ask if he played hockey and then drop it so suddenly. Maybe Sven knew something.

Now that he had settled that matter, Adam looked around the room again, starting at the front. Kristoff was placed in the front row, and Olaf was in the back corner. A few other people had also walked in: a strawberry blonde girl he recognized from his first class period, and some other brown haired kid who looked like he'd been a pampered princeling since birth. He was practically dressed like one, at least. Adam could just tell this guy had a stuck up attitude.

Upon focusing in on him more, though, he heard him sweet talking the girl, and she seemed to totally fall for him with every word he said. " _Weird,"_ thought Adam, " _maybe this kid is actually one of the nicest people around or something. Who knows. I'll ask Sven about him too."_

Finally looking away from their little conversation before either of them noticed him eavesdropping, Adam's attention again turned to the front of the room, where he was met with an unusual sight. Kristoff kept quickly glancing back at the red haired girl and the brunette "prince", and, while he tried to not make it obvious, Adam could tell he was furious. He couldn't imagine why the blond would be so angry, although he imagined there was a perfectly plausible explanation. Yet another question that needed answering, and he was only an hour into his first school day in Arendelle. Interesting.

By that point, most of the class had filed in and found their seats. Nothing else seemed to be very interesting, aside from Olaf entertaining a few of the people around him with what sounded like knock knock jokes, so Adam decided to inspect his teacher to see what he/she looked like. Looking behind the desk at the same spot Mrs. Fredriksen occupied in his first class, he was surprised to see nobody was there. A quick look around the room confirmed his earlier suspicions: the teacher was nowhere to be found. Considering class was supposed to start in less than a minute, it seemed that the teacher would be the only tardy one. How ironic.

Still, this provided a good opportunity to ask Sven a few of the questions he had formulated. Turning to his right, Adam tapped the boy on his shoulder to get his attention. It worked, as Sven turned to meet him.

"What's up?" he asked.

"Yeah, I gotta ask something about Kristoff. Earlier in the hallway, you saw how he asked me if I played hockey," whispered Adam, not wanting to draw unnecessary attention to their conversation.

"Yeah, so what?" replied Sven.

"You also saw how he just dropped it as soon as I said yes. Is there, like, something about him and hockey he doesn't want to talk about?"

To the surprise of Adam, a small grin actually appeared on Sven's face. "Actually, the reason he asked is because he plays hockey too."

"So why would he not want to talk about it?" came the response from Adam.

"I'm not sure why he wouldn't want to, but I'm sure he wants to gauge your interest in joining the hockey team," said Sven.

"Hockey team? Like, for the town? Is it one of those youth league things?" said Adam.

"No, the school team. What are you talking about?" said Sven, clearly confused with Adam's previous statement.

"The school has a team? No way," said Adam, a disbelieving look on his face.

"Sure we do. Why, didn't whatever school you went to in the U.S. have one?"

"Nope. The only team you could sign up for was one that required tryouts, and the rink for it was more than 30 minutes away from where I lived. There were a bunch of teams, though, so basically everyone who signed up got to play. We had basketball and a bunch of other stuff at school, but not hockey," Adam stated.

Sven chuckled a little bit. "It certainly sounds different. Here in Arendelle, though, we're only into sports that involve ice or snow, so none of that I'm afraid." As he said this, however, he began to frown and look down at his desk.

Adam noticed this sudden change in attitude. Hoping he didn't hurt Sven's feelings somehow, he asked "Are you okay? You kinda just... well..."

"It's fine. I think I know why Kristoff didn't really want to talk about hockey," said Sven, once again focusing his attention on Adam.

"Why?"

Leaning a bit into the aisle between Adam's desk and his own, Sven quietly spoke: "The truth is, despite all of us here loving winter sports and such, the hockey team is awful. We haven't had a winning record or qualified for the playoffs in more than 20 years."

"Hold on. We?" Adam interrupted.

"Yes. Kristoff, Olaf and I all play on the team. Kristoff's a defenseman, Olaf's a forward, and I'm the starting goaltender." continued Sven. This certainly surprised Adam.

"Wait, ALL of you play hockey?" Adam cried a little louder than he meant to, gaining a few quick glances his direction.

Just as Sven was about to respond, the door to the classroom swung open, revealing a man who was even bigger than Kristoff. With a mustache and sideburns that somehow went behind his ears, in addition to his small hat and absurd sweater, this guy certainly looked... strange. Adam could tell everyone else thought the same.

Lumbering behind the desk and picking up a few papers, Adam knew this guy was the teacher. Sure enough, the man began to speak just as he wrapped that thought up:

"Yoo-hoo! Hallo! Velcome to the class. My name is Mr. Oaken. I'm new. You haven't seen me teach before."

Olaf was already crying from laughter in his seat in the corner, causing a few other nearby people to chuckle (or giggle) as well. Adam, however, had a lot on his mind, so he tuned everything out. This guy was silly, but he probably wasn't gonna say anything earth-shattering on the first day.

* * *

 _Upon thinking about it, today was going much better than Adam could have predicted. Sure, he was still wary about the "new country" stigma, but for the most part, things weren't as dramatically different as he thought. Things were actually going quite well. He had only spoken to a few people, but they were all good guys._

 _These guys. Kristoff, Olaf, Sven. He had only known Kristoff for a little more than an hour, and Olaf and Sven for about 20 minutes, but he already felt like he was a part of their circle, like he was one of their group. He felt right at home talking with them, even before he had known they all played hockey. Now that he was aware of this nugget of information, however, Adam felt as if... they could truly forge a strong friendship, a tight bond. After all, they all had a shared interest, common ground that could bring them together. Kinda like his teammates back in Minnesota. How well would he have gotten along with them if they didn't play together on the same team? Probably better with some than others. There were some people on his team that, personally, drove him bonkers. But because they all played hockey, because they were TEAMMATES, they all related with each other. They might as well have been brothers._

 _Although it was only the first day, it immediately felt to Adam like he could forge the same bond with his new group of friends. After all, now that he looked back a little, THEY came to HIM. It was Kristoff who first initiated contact in the office, not Adam. It was Sven who was so willing just now to have a conversation, despite barely knowing him. Adam was certain they could have spoken for much longer if they weren't interrupted by Mr. Oaken. And while he admittedly knew very little about Olaf, it seemed like he was both physically and mentally incapable of hating anyone. Sure, he was a little weird, but so what? Everyone has their own unique traits._

 _All these jumbled thoughts and emotions, after they had sorted themselves out in Adam's mind, eventually came together in one unified statement: "Maybe things won't be so bad around here."_

* * *

"...and zhat is why I've decided to close my shop and become a teacher."

Adam blinked. The first thing that drew his attention was the clock: there was only 1 minute left in class. _"Wow, I seriously just tuned him out for the whole class."_ Turning to his right again, he noticed Sven had his head down on the desk. Lightly tapping his desk, he asked "Hey, I wasn't really paying attention. What did he talk about?"

Adam waited for a reply. He didn't receive one. Just as he was about to ask again, the bell rang, signaling the end of class. Almost like a rocket, everyone shot up from their seats and headed for the door. It didn't seem like many people were happy. Just as Adam himself was getting up, much more calmly than the others, he heard an interrupted snore, followed by Sven's head snapping up from the desk. It was clear he had been asleep.

Kristoff and Olaf were at the front of the room, trying to avoid Mr. Oaken, who was just sitting there with the tips of his fingers touching. After Adam and Sven had caught up with them, they all headed out of the room.

"So, what did I miss?" asked Sven. "I fell asleep."

"Nothing. He talks too much about his old store," came the reply from Olaf. He looked rather disgruntled. Adam thought to himself that he may have been wrong about his previous assumption of it being impossible for Olaf to dislike _anyone_.

Kristoff also chimed in with his opinion, saying "He literally spent the whole hour describing his life. You didn't miss anything. Unless there's a test or something."

"Don't give him any ideas."

Everyone laughed at this statement from Sven, including Adam.

"Anyways, I've got Mrs. Dahlberg next. Who do you all have?" asked Kristoff.

"I don't remember. I'll learn later," said Olaf, giggling to himself after finishing his sentence.

"I've got Mr. Haugland next. What about you, Adam?" came the reply from Sven.

"Let me check," said Adam, taking his schedule out of his pocket. After checking the list, he saw his 3rd class was with a Mr. Eriksson.

"I have Mr. Eriksson. Do you guys know where his room is?" said Adam.

"It's on the second floor. I actually think it's right above our heads. Just use the stairs down there," said Kristoff, pointing to a staircase at the end of the hallway.

"Thanks," said Adam. "Oh, and you should probably find out where you need to go next, Olaf."

"I'll just follow Kristoff and hope for the best," responded Olaf, STILL laughing to himself, albeit a little quieter than earlier.

"Well, good luck. See you guys later," said Adam, beginning the walk to the stairs Kristoff just pointed out.

"Later. Oh, and find our table at lunch, okay?" Kristoff yelled after him.

"Sure thing. See you there," came the reply from Adam.

Once he started walking up the stairs, Adam smiled to himself. His previous assumption about the group was right. They already thought of him as a friend, even though he had only known them for a little while. Adam felt the same.

After another minute or so, Adam found the room he was looking for, with the nameplate on the door clearly stating Mr. Eriksson. He had already made a few friends; perhaps he could make a few more? That probably wouldn't come until he was better acquainted with the school and he knew more about his other classmates, however. Shrugging his shoulders to himself, Adam opened the door.

There were only a couple people in the room. Adam looked to the board for the seating chart, but he was instead met with a hand written message, clearly stating "you may sit wherever you like." Adam smiled to himself a little bit; it was a little early to judge the teacher based on whether there was a seating chart or not considering he could always make one later, but his first impression was that he would be better than Mr. Oaken, based on the negative report Kristoff and Olaf had regarding their second teacher.

Because all of his previous classes had him sitting in the back, Adam decided to head back there yet again. Just as he was about to make his way there, however, he stopped cold.

Throughout all of his time in Minnesota, Adam of course had small crushes on a few girls. Still, he would always get over them in almost a few days; hockey was always his first priority. Besides, he was always too shy to act on them, so he had never had a serious relationship. In fact, he probably couldn't even say he ever had a girlfriend. A combination of his obsession and dedication to hockey and his own hesitation was the culprit for this.

Still, even with the girls he _did_ ever have a crush on, he never felt the butterflies in his stomach. He never felt himself get tongue tied when he saw them.

Until now.

In the middle of the room, a blonde haired girl, who had her hair tied in a braid and draped over her shoulder, sat in her desk, reading a book. Although it was difficult for Adam to see due to her looking down, it looked like she had gorgeous emerald green eyes. She was dressed almost entirely in blue, with a dark blue sweater and jacket, in addition to light blue sweatpants. Even her shoes were blue. Some might think of that much blue as obnoxious, but on this particular girl, it looked perfect. She was absolutely stunning.

Adam continued to gape for almost 30 seconds until he realized what he was doing. Upon realization that he had been staring at this shockingly pretty girl for a rather extended period of time, he immediately looked at the floor and pretended to wipe his eye. Once he had done this, he moved to the back of the room, feeling his face heat up. He hoped nobody noticed.

Once he had taken his seat, he stared down at his desk, trying to hide his blush. Because of this, Adam didn't notice that one kid walk in, the "princeling" from Mr. Oaken's class. He did notice, however, when he immediately took a seat next to her.

"Why good morning, darling, you look..." was all he heard before Adam's anger restricted his logic, preventing him from hearing any more. Thankfully, like Kristoff, Adam was able to hide it. He was having an incredible urge to walk up and sucker punch this kid, but he restrained himself. The consequences would be catastrophic.

Still, it suddenly hit Adam as to why Kristoff was so angry at the beginning of their second class: he had a crush on that strawberry blonde. And he was furious at this _douchebag_ for hitting on her.

And now, here he was again, hitting on this blonde girl in the VERY NEXT CLASS. Adam could see why Kristoff was so upset: this guy was the textbook definition of a player, and Kristoff had already known this. He didn't care about the strawberry blonde from the previous class, although it was painfully obvious she was practically in love with him, and he probably didn't care about this blonde girl either. He didn't care for personality, only for looks. Girls were probably a status symbol or something to him.

As Adam forced himself to look up at them again, however, he was somewhat relieved to see her clearly denying his advances. It was clear she wanted no part of him. Still, he remained in the seat right next to hers, trying to convince her he was "everything she could ever want" or something like that. Bullshit.

After a couple of minutes of Adam trying his absolute hardest to ignore their conversation, the rest of the class and Mr. Eriksson had filed in. When the clock reached 8:55 AM, Mr. Eriksson clapped his hands a few times, earning the attention of his class.

"Good morning everyone, my name is Mr. Eriksson, just in case you didn't see it. I'll be taking attendance now."

Unlike Mrs. Fredriksen's class in which he didn't pay any attention to the attendance, or Mr. Oaken's in which he probably didn't take it at all, Adam paid close attention. He wanted to learn the names of both the blonde girl and the punk.

"Anisimov, Dimitri?"

"Present," was the response from what sounded like a Russian kid on the other side of the room. Not him.

"Axelsson, Henrik?"

"Present," came the reply from someone sitting in the front row. Again, not him.

Mr. Eriksson rattled off a few more people, getting a few more responses, although none of them came from the two people he was looking for. He was going alphabetically based on last names. Adam stated he was present when he said his name.

Eventually, after he called the name of some girl on the other side of the room, he asked "Samuelsson, Elsa?"

"Present."

So that was her name. Elsa. Adam didn't know anyone named Elsa in Minnesota, but it was beautiful name. Simple, yet elegant. It suited her perfectly.

After a couple more people, Mr. Eriksson said "Westergaard, Hans."

"Here."

Hans was his name. Adam would be sure to ask Kristoff about him later.

Hans was apparently the last person on the attendance list, as Mr. Eriksson put down his paper and began to speak about the class. It was a long, drawn out lecture about things they could expect to do while here. Once again, Adam was not called up to the front of the room just because he was new like he was in Mrs. Fredriksen's class, although he wouldn't have minded as much. Although he wasn't at a comfortable level with public speaking or something like that yet, he had quite a bit more confidence than he did a mere 2 hours ago.

Slowly, agonizingly, time crawled by. There was nothing to help make the class move along faster aside from staring down at the desk or around the room. Thankfully, it appeared Hans was also bored, as he was no longer trying to gain the attention of Elsa.

Finally, the bell rang, signaling the class was over. Everyone got up from their desks and headed for the door, including Adam. He could hear Mr. Eriksson wishing everyone a good rest of the day, as well as Hans saying goodbye to Elsa in some sob tone. That second one made Adam purse his lips yet again.

Once he was in the hallway, Adam checked his schedule. He smiled when he saw he had lunch next. Remembering what Kristoff told him after their second class, he made his way to the lunchroom.

Or at least he tried to.

Realizing he had no idea where it was, he quickly looked around for a sign, a teacher to ask (he didn't really want to ask a student, as he was still just a little nervous about approaching someone out of the blue), anything. Thankfully, he got the best possible solution: a map. A quick look revealed that the lunchroom was on the first floor, and that essentially every hallway on the first level of the school led to it. Adam thought of the old saying, "All roads lead to Rome," and this school appeared to be no exception.

After a couple minutes of walking, Adam reached his destination, the cafeteria. It was rather busy with only a few open tables, and conversations everywhere. From what he could gather, many people were reconnecting with friends they didn't get the chance to see in the summer. Still, Adam was looking for one table in particular.

After looking around for a minute or two, he could hear someone faintly calling his name. Turning his head in that direction, he saw Kristoff and Olaf signaling him over to their table. Sven was nowhere to be found, despite his backpack being in one of the seats.

After shuffling his way through both people and tables, Adam finally reached his target. After greeting Kristoff and Olaf, Adam took a seat: there were only four of chairs, and now all of them were occupied (at least, three of them were).

Deciding to bring attention to the matter, Adam asked "Where's Sven?"

"Getting his food," was the reply.

"Oh," said Adam. You kinda do that in a cafeteria.

Speaking of food, he looked around and what Kristoff and Olaf were eating: both of them had some kind of unidentified meat dish. Shrugging to himself for the second time that day, Adam took out the lunch his parents had packed for him. His meal consisted of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, baby carrots, a plastic water bottle, and a few cookies. They appeared to be Chips Ahoy. Classic.

Adam started with the carrots. As soon as he took out the little bag, however, Olaf immediately set his sights.

"Hey, are those carrots?" he asked rather excitedly.

"Uh, yeah," said Adam.

"Gimme one. Gimme gimme gimme," said Olaf, now reaching across the table.

"Alright, here, jeez," replied Adam, handing the boy a few of the baby carrots.

Olaf happily accepted the carrots, immediately devouring them. Adam's stare went from Olaf to Kristoff with a look of bewilderment.

"He loves carrots," Kristoff chuckled. Adam just said "Ah," in confirmation.

Hearing a chair scrape the floor next to him, Adam turned in that direction, noticing Sven had rejoined the group. Sven, on the other hand, also noticed the carrots.

"Hey, are you gonna finish those carrots?" he asked in a hopeful tone.

"You know what... here, take the whole bag," Adam said in an exasperated tone, handing him the whole bag. Sven began to divide them amongst himself and Olaf. Kristoff was practically falling out of his chair across the table, laughing at the whole thing.

Adam knew he was joking around, but he was still just a little angry. "Shut up."

"No, it's funny."

"Maybe to you."

"Yeah. That's why I'm laughing," Kristoff said while laughing.

Adam sighed loudly, chuckling to himself nonetheless. His new circle of friends certainly had their quirks.

When all the laughter died down, Adam decided to bring up the hockey team. He knew Kristoff might be a little hesitant to talk about it, but he wanted to ask him when tryouts were. He wanted to join.

"Hey Kristoff, when are tryouts for the hockey team?"

Kristoff, who was still smiling from the carrot fiasco, suddenly looked almost sad. Looking up at Adam, he could definitely see that was the right emotion to describe him.

"Tryouts are going to be next week. You can hardly call them that, though, almost nobody ever shows up. Are you gonna join the team?"

"Yeah. Sven told me all of us play. He also told me about the team's... unfortunate history recently. Still, it sounds like it'd be fun for us to all be on the same team. And besides, I'm eager to play again, it's been too long," stated Adam.

Smiling a little bit again, Kristoff replied with "If you played last year, it's only been 3 months since the season ended."

"That's a long time."

Kristoff chuckled. "Only if you play for a good team. If you play for a terrible team, the offseason flies by. Still, we all love the sport. That's why we play. Unfortunately, we're among the _only_ ones who love it.. Actually, it's almost pitiful how few people around here care about hockey. We barely have enough players to fill out a roster. Coach said we may _not_ have enough players at all this season."

Adam took note of Kristoff's comment on how nobody seemed to care about hockey. "How come interest in the sport is so low here?"

"Probably because the team has been terrible for a long time now, and more people are interested in things like skiing and figure skating," was the response from the blond.

"Really. It's kinda the opposite in the United States. Hockey is the most dominant winter sport, or at least the most dominant winter sport that uses ice or snow or whatever," replied Adam.

"Well, over here, it's the others. Figure skating in particular, our school's team is really good, even the guys." said Sven, entering the conversation.

"A guy's school figure skating team. I've never heard of that. Ever."

"Well, they're one of the top ranked programs in the country. Same with the girls team. There's one in particular, she's exceptional. I think her name is Elsa or something," replied Sven.

Adam, who was taking a drink from the water bottle that was included in his lunch, nearly choked. After he successfully swallowed the gulp he was taking, he merely gasped out "Elsa?!", still struggling for breath.

Looking at him with amusement, Sven said "Yeah, Elsa's her name. Why are you so interested?"

Realizing how foolish he made himself look, Adam composed himself and replied, saying "No reason. Out of curiosity, what's her last name?"

"I think it's Samuelsson. That's what I read in the final edition of the school's newspaper last year. That may be wrong, though."

Once Sven finished this statement, Adam slouched a little in his chair. So she was a star figure skater on the school's team. This meant she would probably be one of those really popular girls, one that had a boyfriend and a million other friends, a ton of money, whatever it is. No wonder Hans was flirting with her. She was probably way above what he could ever be. Probably. What chance did a guy like Adam, who literally moved to Arendelle yesterday, have with her? He didn't even KNOW her, and he already felt like his chances were shot.

Meanwhile, across the table, Kristoff's face turned just a little red at the mention of her last name. This did not go unnoticed by Sven.

"Kristoff, I'm just gonna come out and ask. Do you have a crush on her?"

Adam sat up straight again, and Olaf stopped playing with his food. Both of them wanted to hear his answer, Adam in particular.

After nearly a minute, Kristoff began to speak: "Fine, I'll say it. No. But I have a crush on her sister."

"Who's her sister?"

"The girl with reddish hair in Mr. Oaken's class. Her name is Anna."

* * *

 **Well well, look who finally decided to appear in the story. Anyways, I think now's a good time to cut it off, heh heh heh. Basically Adam's suspicions of Kristoff having a crush on that one girl from Mr. Oaken's class have been confirmed. But is there any hope for Adam? We shall see... in future chapters. Sorry XD**

 **I'm almost certain some of you may be thinking this story is going the generic jock/nerd direction, except with the roles reversed. I can assure you it's not. Have patience, all the pieces will come together.**

 **I think this is a pretty good chapter overall, but I'm worried I rushed Adam's development early on. Having him realize that things weren't nearly as bad in Arendelle as he thought they would be felt a little rushed. Again, my pacing could use a little work.**

 **I considered making Oaken the coach of the hockey team, but he seems just a little too goofy for the role. Therefore, I made him a teacher. Considering the whole group is in his class, I'm sure we'll hear more from him soon (I kinda just shoved him out of the way in this chapter, sorry about that).**

 **The last name given to Anna and Elsa, Samuelsson, is completely random. It sounded nice, there's my reason.**

 **Well, that's really it. Thank you so much for reading this chapter, and I hope you enjoyed it.**

 **Have a nice day.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Well, look who's come crawling back for more.**

 **...**

 **I'm joking, I'm joking, jeez, sorry. XD. Anyways, welcome back to Cold Defense. As usual, I hope you've all been enjoying the story so far. Last time we left off, Adam seemed a little down, and Kristoff just confessed to the group he has a crush on Anna. Well.**

 **Based on the reviews I've gotten (thank you very much to everyone who's reviewed, Shawn Raven in particular), it seems many of you think I overdid it with Adam's reaction when he first saw Elsa. After going back and rereading that section... you're right. I can't go back and change it, as altering such a huge chunk of a chapter by this point feels like it would almost ruin the integrity of the story, so I instead decided to address that in this chapter. I hope it's satisfactory enough.**

 **Well, that's about it. On with the story.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Frozen. Never have, never will.**

Present

 _"Thoughts"_

 **Author's Note**

 _ **Flashback**_ **(again, only used for the lines directly below)**

* * *

 _ **After nearly a minute, Kristoff began to speak: "Fine, I'll say it. No. But I have a crush on her sister."**_

 _ **"Who's her sister?"**_

 _ **"The girl with reddish hair in Mr. Oaken's class. Her name is Anna."**_

* * *

Sven and Olaf looked at Kristoff with a look of newfound curiosity. Adam merely looked down at the table, somewhat satisfied in knowing that his previous theory about Kristoff having a crush on that mystery girl (mystery girl to him, at least) was confirmed.

Still, this news certainly resonated with Sven and Olaf; they clearly had no idea that Kristoff had _ever_ had a crush on her. However, there were almost certainly other factors that made this such a surprise to them, factors that Adam wasn't aware of. Had he ever had a previous relationship, or even a noticeable crush on someone else before?

* * *

 _Of course, all of this conversation about this Anna Samuelsson eventually looped around in Adam's mind back to Elsa. As soon as her name crossed his thoughts, Adam once again slouched in his chair, almost in defeat. He didn't have a lot of experience when it came to girls, but he was hoping he might be able to even just talk to her or something; after learning of her superstar status amongst the rest of the school, however, even this seemed impossible. After all, it would be very... awkward if some new kid were to suddenly approach the most (presumably) popular girl in the school and try to get all chatty._

 _Shaking his head to himself, Adam cleared his mind of these thoughts. He seriously didn't want to ruin the rest of lunch, nor the rest of his day, by remaining in a funk over a crush he acquired an hour ago. He wanted to spend this time getting better acquainted with his new group of friends, as well as perhaps gaining more knowledge on the hockey team. Now that he had brought at least temporary closure to the matter, Adam sat up straight again, ready to rejoin the conversation. He kinda lost track of what they were talking about after Kristoff's confession._

* * *

"... ever since sophomore year, huh?"

"Uh huh, ever since we were in that art class together. I hated the class itself, though. I can't draw."

"I have that class next semester. Should I be dreading it?"

"What class are you all talking about?" Adam suddenly asked, clearly trying to rejoin the conversation. Kristoff just gave him an unusual look.

"Art class with Mrs. Blomqvist. Did you, like, space out or something?" he said, giving a small chuckle during the last part of his reply.

"Yeah, you could say that. Anyways, I gotta ask, what's gonna happen to the team if there aren't enough players to form a complete roster?"

"We'll have to forfeit the season. That's the doomsday scenario, one we don't like to think about. Don't worry, though, I'm sure we'll be fine," Kristoff reassured. His tone didn't sound very convincing, though.

After that, the four friends began chatting away once again, talking all about how their day has been going, things that have been different from last year (Adam sure had a lot to talk about in that department, considering EVERYTHING was different), etc. By the time lunch was over, Adam didn't feel like he was a new addition to the group; he felt like he'd known them for years. It really was amazing to him how quickly he had become what could be considered a regular in the group. Sure, the same couldn't be said about the school as a whole, as he was still the "new kid", but the transition would most certainly be easier now that he had people to talk to, to hang out with. He could always call his friends back in Minnesota, but the time zone change made it tricky, and it was always better to have them in the flesh. Still, he would be sure to give a few of his teammates back in the U.S. a ring once things were a little more settled in his new home.

Once the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch, Adam checked his schedule once again. After comparing it with Kristoff, Sven, and Olaf, he learned he shared his next class, P.E., with Kristoff. Sven and Olaf each had different classes, so everyone said goodbye and headed for their respective classes.

While on the way to the gym, Adam asked "Hey, what does the gym look like? Is it just a big open space or something?"

Kristoff gave him yet another confused glance while replying. "No, it's the ice rink. Big open space?"

Adam could barely believe what he just heard. The school had an _ice rink?_ Built in?

"I don't believe you."

"What's so unusual about it? It's an ice rink. I thought you said you played hockey," Kristoff replied, in a joking tone.

"I'm just surprised, that's all. My old school back in the U.S. sure didn't have one."

"Well, that's over there, so get used to it over here. C'mon, here's the entrance to the locker room," said Kristoff, opening the doors they had wandered up to.

Most people had already arrived, getting dressed in their gym uniforms and heading out to the rink. After looking around the room, Adam noticed a sign on the wall, revealing that the lockers were assigned. Once he found his name, he learned that his was at the far end of the room. He was about to make his way back there when he realized a painful truth.

"Uh, Kristoff, I don't have my skates. Or a gym uniform. Or a lock," he said rather glumly.

"Relax, they give you all those things on the first day. Just head to the athletic office over there," he responded, pointing to a windowless door straight ahead of them.

"Thanks. I'll catch up with you later," said Adam, as he began the trek to the office.

"Yeah, see you in a few," replied Kristoff, heading for his own locker; they didn't change from year to year, so he already knew where his was.

Arriving at the door of the athletic office, Adam knocked a few times. Just when he was about to knock again, it suddenly swung open, revealing who had apparently been standing behind it. The first observation Adam made was that this guy was big; how come it seemed like so many people around here were humongous? And then there were guys like Olaf, who were barely even 5'6".

Nevertheless, once he got past the size, he moved on to observing the face. Being completely honest with himself, Adam thought this guy was the picture perfect definition of a generic coach. Gray hair (or what was left of it, as he was obviously starting to go bald), wrinkles on the forehead, a scowl that seemed like it was stuck forever. He also had one hell of a mustache. Not quite handlebars, but it was still pretty large.

"What do you want?" he gruffly asked, snapping Adam out of his observations.

"Uh... is this where I pick up my gym uniform?" he asked, almost intimidated by this teacher.

"If you're new or something, yes. What's your name?" he replied, grabbing a clipboard from the desk next to him.

"Nolan. Adam Nolan."

Scanning over the page attached to the clipboard, he eventually put his finger down on the paper. "Oh yes, the kid from the United States. Ok, here's how it works. Because of funding and this and that, the only thing for a gym we have here is an ice rink. We have plenty of skates in nearly every size that we loan out for the first week of school or so, but I'm going to assume you've never skated before in your life. Therefore, you should just sit up in the audience today while ev..."

"Excuse me, sir, but I've actually played hockey for the past 10 years back in the United States. I know how to skate," Adam interrupted, as politely as he could. He definitely didn't want to get on this guy's bad side.

The man raised his eyebrows at this statement.

"Fine, scratch everything I just told you. Did you bring your skates?" he asked.

"No, I didn't know I would need them," said Adam.

"Alright, you can use one of the pairs we loan to students who don't have their own yet. It's required everyone has their own pair by next week, however, so bring them tomorrow. Oh, and here."

Walking back into the office, the man grabbed what looked like both a gym uniform and a lock off of a shelf, handing them both to Adam. He then began to exit the office.

Thanking the man for his help, Adam stepped out of the doorframe, allowing him to pass. As he headed for a door at the end of the locker room, however, Adam noticed an unusual design on the back of his jacket, requiring a closer look. It was what appeared to be a logo, depicting a... sled? It was certainly an unusual crest. Above the logo was a wordmark, "Central Arendelle High School Ice Harvesters hockey." What a mouthful.

Wait a second. Hockey. That only meant one thing.

Catching the remainder of what the jacket said just before the man walked out the door, two more words rested below the logo: "Head coach."

So his new gym teacher was also the coach of the team. Now Adam really hoped he didn't get on his bad side.

Walking into the office, Adam immediately noticed a big rack of skates on the wall. There weren't that many taken, indicating most people had brought their own, so they still had a few pairs in Adam's size. Grabbing what looked like the highest quality pair, he noticed a sign out sheet that he would have to sign for the skates. Adam filled out his name and the date. He also needed to write the number assigned to the pair of skates he took. A quick look on the heel showed the number 57, so he quickly jotted that down as well.

Once everything was settled, Adam left the athletic office. He noticed that the locker room was completely empty; he hoped he would have to make an awkward entrance in which everyone would be watching him or something. Making his way over to his locker, he looked at the bottom of his lock once he got there: a piece of tape was attached to the bottom with the combination written on it. Removing the tape and putting in it in his pocket, he opened the lock and placed it in his now open locker.

Unfolding his gym shirt for the first time, Adam looked over the design: unlike the unique design on the jacket the teacher/coach was wearing, the gym shirt simply read CENTRAL ARENDELLE in green capital letters. A pair of loose fitting sweatpants was also included, clearly meant for skating. Changing out of his original outfit and into his new uniform, he took a few steps to see if it all fit. Once he determined everything did, he finished changing by removing his shoes and lacing on the skates he borrowed. This was the first time he had put on any pair of skates since the last game of the season back in Minnesota in May. Once he learned he would be moving, he never found it in him to attempt to get on the ice again while he was still in Minnesota.

The skates were a little less comfortable than Adam would have liked, but he couldn't complain, considering they weren't his. Now that he was completely changed, he shut and locked his locker. He then began to head for the door he saw the teacher go through, assuming it led to the ice rink.

His guess proved correct, as Adam was blasted with cold air as soon as he opened the door. Taking a long look around the arena, he found it to be very nice: it wasn't particularly big, but it looked like it was in pristine condition. Looking down on the ice surface, he smiled at the familiar markings, all set to go for a hockey game. The same sled logo he saw on the teacher's jacket also adorned center ice. There were no goals on either side of the rink, however, so they probably weren't gonna play hockey that day. Besides, apparently nobody cared about it enough anyways.

Adam's eyes drifted up to the ceiling, taking a look at the banners hanging from the rafters. Nearly all of them glorified all of the other teams in the school, but he couldn't find a single one for the hockey team. Wait, hold on. There was one. A retired number, number 9, for some forward that played here about 50 years ago. It's been awhile.

Adam's attention now focused on the stands; everyone was up there talking amongst themselves, signaling that class had not yet begun. Looking around for Kristoff, he found the boy sitting a little ways away from everyone else, staring straight at a wall. Making his way up into the stands, Adam called his name, gaining his attention.

"I was wondering what was taking you so long," he said as Adam sat down in the seat next to him.

"I had to get all of the things I needed, like you said," replied Adam, taking another look around the rink. "So, this is where the hockey team plays?"

"Yep, it's nice, isn't it? It's kinda sad though, in a way. Despite holding 2,000 people, the team barely draws 400 a game."

"I'm willing to guess this school doesn't even have 2,000 people, including the staff. Don't worry about it," Adam reasoned with him.

"Yeah, but this town barely has anything to do besides the local sports events. You'd think we could draw a few more people, but nobody really cares enough, I guess," he replied, rather sadly.

Adam, deciding to drop that topic of conversation, noticed another door in the arena, identical to the door leading to the boy's locker room, although it was opposite to said entrance.

"Hey, where does that door lead to?" Adam asked.

"That's the girl's locker room," Kristoff replied, still sounding a little down from their last conversation.

Sure enough, a few girls walked out of the door as soon as he said it. Well, that confirms that.

A whistle suddenly rang out through the arena. Both Adam and Kristoff were startled It didn't seem like they were the only ones, though; that sucker was loud. Once he got over his surprise, Adam looked for the source, finding his answer when he noticed the teacher at their end of the rink.

"Alright! All the boys, get down here and line up, side to side. All the ladies, you'll do the same in the second half of class," he yelled. He didn't even need a microphone or something, his voice resonated quite clearly.

Both Adam and Kristoff got up from their seats and made their way to the ice surface. Being among the first to arrive, they stood near the middle, in front of the coach.

"Hey, coach," said Kristoff, rather casually.

"Well, if it isn't Bjorgman. You been keeping up with the offseason training schedule we assigned?" the coach replied.

"Yep. It's been going well. How many players have committed to the team this season?"

"Just enough to ice a full lineup. Tryouts are next week, but nobody's gonna show up," said the coach.

"That's not true, my friend Adam here is gonna try out, isn't that right?" said Kristoff, nudging Adam.

"Uh, yeah. That's right," Adam said, almost a little shakily. He was still a little intimidated by the coach.

"Are you now. Well, you told me in the locker rooms you've played for the past 10 years. What position?" asked the still unnamed coach.

"Defense."

"Ah, like Bjorgman. Well, just know this. We don't have very many players, nor do we have many players that want to sign up, but I'm not just going to add you to the team because of that if you don't impress. Got it?"

Adam silently gulped. "Got it."

"Good. Now if you'll excuse me. HURRY UP AND GET DOWN HERE NOW!" the coach screamed, startling Adam, but not Kristoff.

"Is he always like that?" Adam quietly asked his friend.

"Pretty much. Coach Quinn is tough, but he's fair. He's been in this position for the past 10 years," he responded, also trying to keep his voice down.

"They've kept him for 10 years despite never having a winning record in any of those seasons? I'm surprised," said Adam.

"It's because it'd be a nightmare to try and find someone else, considering not many people even know this school has a hockey team. Besides, it's not really his fault, there just hasn't been much talent on the roster. He coached in Canada for 20 years before he moved to Arendelle, so he knows what he's doing."

Just as Adam was about to speak up again, the whistle cut him off. It was even louder this time, considering they were right in front of Coach.

"Alright, let's get attendance in the books. Anisimov!"

"Present."

 _"Anisimov"_ thought Adam. _"That kid is also in my 3rd class."_ Deciding to gain a little more information about him, Adam nudged Kristoff on the side, gaining the blond's attention.

"That Anisimov kid. Do you know him? He's in a few of my classes," asked Adam.

"Dimitri? Yeah. He's actually one of the players on the team. He plays center." replied Kristoff.

"Oh, so he'll be one of our teammates?"

"Yeah, assuming you make the team, of course. You can..."

"BJORGMAN!"

Kristoff was immediately brought back to reality. "HERE!"

"I called you three times. Pay attention." said Coach Quinn, shaking his head a little.

"Sorry, sir," Kristoff sheepishly replied.

After Coach Quinn returned to calling names off the list, Kristoff gave a sad smile and looked at Adam.

"He obviously knew I was here, but still felt the need to call my name. That's just who he is, stubborn as a mule," he said.

"I can tell. I'll try not to make him mad," said Adam, feeling sorry for putting Kristoff in that mess. After all, he started the conversation that distracted the taller boy.

After a few more names Adam didn't recognize, Mr. Quinn yelled out "Nolan!"

"Present."

No further remarks, unlike when he called Kristoff. Adam was relieved.

After he finished attendance, Coach Quinn blew his whistle yet again. Even when they expected it, it was still a little rattling.

"Line up! We're gonna shake the rust off with some Herbies!" he yelled.

"Herbies?" Kristoff asked, confused. It appeared as if this was a new exercise the coach would be introducing this year.

"It's an exercise where the whole team, or in this case, the class, skates together across the ice and back, over and over again. It was named after Herb Brooks, the coach who used it in the Olympics," replied Adam. He was very familiar with this drill, as he had to do it many times with his team in Minnesota.

"Oh," said Kristoff. Now he knew.

"In case you didn't know, Herbies are when you skate up and down the ice, over and over! We do it as a class, got it?" yelled Coach Quinn.

"See?" said Adam to Kristoff, smiling a little.

"Okay, fine, you know what they are. I do too now. Shut up," he said, also smiling a little.

"Just saying, Kristopher."

"It's Kristoff."

The whole class lined up, side by side. There was plenty of room for everyone, just so long as you didn't swerve while skating or fall. Everyone waited with tense anticipation for the whistle.

It rang out.

Herbies aren't designed to be a race, but that's exactly what it felt like. With everyone seemingly trying to one up everyone else, the exercise quickly dissolved into an intense competition.

Kristoff did not seem like he would be the fastest based on physique alone, and this was definitely the case. He wasn't a bad skater by any stretch, but he wasn't particularly quick, either. He wasn't about to win a footrace any time soon.

Adam, however was different. His game was built on nimbleness. Explosiveness. Speed. After all, for someone who isn't very heavy, they need these things to be an effective defenseman, the ability to get back on defense before the other team's forwards could begin their attack. That's how he always played: he wasn't a hard hitter, but he could disrupt play. He could steal the puck. He was agile. Herbies were the kind of exercise he excelled at.

Thus, when the whistle blew, Adam was one of the first ones to be on the move. He knew he could be the fastest.

And he certainly was.

Despite the things going against him, the rust, the unfamiliar equipment, he was still far and away the best skater. He had already finished all five of the required Herbies by the time most people were finishing their fourth. He also was one of the best during agility exercises, as well as more speed training.

When the whistle blew again, signaling time for the boys and girls to switch, all the guys skated off. Adam was talking with Kristoff when someone approached him.

"Hey! You're the new kid, right?"

"Uh, yeah?" replied Adam. He was straining to remember this kid's name from attendance, but he couldn't do it.

"You know, you're really good. Have you considered signing up for the speed skating team?"

"Sorry, but I've already decided to join the hockey team, and I don't really have an interest in any of the other teams," said Adam, hoping it didn't almost insulting him or the team he represented.

Unfortunately, that's exactly what it felt like to this kid. "Hockey, huh? Well, good luck. Your new team might actually be able to win a game this year!" he said, louder than he needed to. He then began laughing, skating back to his group of friends, who joined him in his mockery.

This was obviously an attempt at demoralizing Adam, but it had the adverse effect. Rather than being sad or reconsidering his decision, it only strengthened his resolve.

"You know, I can't wait for the season to start," Adam said to Kristoff, who was there watching the whole thing. He took that insult personally as well.

"Neither can I."

* * *

After gym, the rest of Adam's day passed by in a blur. He didn't share his remaining two classes with Kristoff, Olaf, Sven, or even Elsa, so there was absolutely nothing to deflect his attention except actually listening to the teacher, something he hadn't really done that day. Finally the bell for 7th period rang, signaling the end of the first day of the school.

Many people were rushing this way and that throughout the halls, whether it be catching up to friends, getting to their rides (there were no school buses, as far as Adam could tell), etc. Unlike seemingly everyone else, however, Adam took his time to head out to the parking lot, time to think.

The activity on his emotional scale was seismic. He was depressed, happy, tongue tied, angry, and motivated, all in one day. Although he wasn't physically tired, mentally he was exhausted. He was just ready to go home and take a power nap.

Unfortunately, he knew this wouldn't be possible right away. As soon as he stepped in the car, he would be bombarded with questions by his mother, with the exact same thing probably awaiting him at home, this time from his father. Typical first day stuff.

As Adam opened the front doors of the school to the parking lot, he couldn't help but think of Elsa once again. This time, however, it wasn't about how he had a crush on her, but the specifics of it.

Why. Why did she catch his eye more than any of the other girls he had classes with today? He didn't even hear her speak today, let alone have an extended conversation, so, despite his assumptions that she was one of the "popular girls" that was in every school, he really had no idea what her personality was like. And she was obviously one of the prettiest girls he had seen today, but, once again, there were many pretty girls that went to school. He was pretty sure a few of them even smiled at him today or something.

Anyways, there might be a variety of things. Did she remind him, based on appearance alone, of someone back in Minnesota? Was she just the personification, again only based on looks, of what Adam might have envisioned his "dream girl" being? Maybe it was the mystique of being a new kid finding new opportunities. Either way, it was truly a mystery.

No matter what, however, Adam knew that he was a little ridiculous today. He had practically fallen in love with her within a few minutes of knowing she existed. To be painfully honest, it was almost embarrassing how big of a crush he had on her earlier in the day.

 _"Still,"_ he thought, _"maybe it would be better if I knew her first."_

And that was that. Sure, there was such a thing as love at first sight, but not usually in high school, and Adam was 1000% confident that she didn't even know his name. If he was going to have such a large (but hopefully not obvious, as it was today) crush on her, it would help if he knew her even _a little_. He didn't even know what her voice sounded like, let alone what her personality was. Adam was not one to only chase looks, believe it or not.

Deciding to focus on what was immediately ahead now that he had once again settled that matter in his head, Adam's thoughts turned to what he would say to his mother. This debate didn't last nearly as long: _"I made a few friends, and I'm trying out for the school's hockey team."_ Simple.

Taking a look around the parking lot, he noticed his mother's car parked a fair distance away. Making his way over to it, he walked up to the passenger side door and tapped the window, indicating he had arrived. Hearing the lock click, Adam got in the car and buckled up. His mother, after giving a rather basic greeting, began to back out of the parking space and out of the school. After a few minutes of driving, Adam needed to know why things were so... quiet.

"Is something wrong?" he asked.

"Nothing's wrong, dear, why?" she replied.

"Well, I kinda thought you'd bombard me with questions."

"Well, I assumed that you wouldn't really want to talk about your first day. Did it go better than you thought it would?" she asked hopefully.

"Yeah, it did. I made a few friends. Oh, and hockey tryouts are next week. For the school's team," said Adam.

"Good for you, sweetie. And hockey tryouts? Okay, but are you sure you want to play this year? It will be different, after all," said Melissa.

"Absolutely. I'm ready to go."

"Well then, good luck dear. I know you'll do fine, despite the competition," she responded.

Adam merely continued to look forward. He didn't really feel like letting his mom know the only competition would probably be himself.

* * *

After the first day, things really got much easier for Adam. He had become even better acquainted with Kristoff, Sven, and Olaf: it was as if he had been friends with them since they were all little kids.

Classes had also gotten more interesting: Mrs. Fredriksen, now that Adam had basically gotten over her decision to call him out on the first day, turned out to be an exceptionally nice teacher. It wasn't like the class took advantage of this, however, as everyone seemed to respect her and the class as a whole. It was a very good environment.

Mr. Oaken, now that he had gotten his life story out of the way, also turned out to be a pretty funny guy, although a little too goofy at times. He also wore business suits with the small hat most days, which was hysterical, considering how large he was.

Regarding the people in the class, however, it was a little unusual. Hans didn't seem particularly interested in Anna anymore, despite all of his sweet talk on the first day, as he had already moved on to other girls in the class. Anna didn't seem particularly crushed by this; it actually looked like she couldn't possibly care less. Kristoff was beyond thrilled with this development, but Adam was a little more wary for his friend: after all, if she was so willing to forget Hans, who's to say she wouldn't do the same with Kristoff if he ever worked up the courage to ask her out?

 _"Let's be fair here, it was Hans who basically cut her off,"_ Adam reassured himself. _"I don't really know Anna, but she doesn't seem the kind to just drop a relationship like that. I just hope Kristoff asks her out soon. Then again, who am I to talk?"_

Adam knew he was being hypocritical in thinking this, as his romance life wasn't exactly perfect either. The truth was, he still definitely had a crush on Elsa, although it was much more subdued than it was on the first day. By now, though, he knew a little more about her, although he _still_ hadn't actually spoken to her yet; he knew she was fond of literature, as she always brought a book to class. In addition, she was apparently the best figure skater in the school (Adam couldn't objectively judge, as he had never actually seen anyone at the school perform, since the season hadn't started yet), but she did not at all appear to be popular; on the contrary, it was almost as if she was a recluse. She really only seemed to speak when necessary. Hans had also, like in 2nd hour, given up on her and moved on to other girls, to the relief of Adam.

Still, 3rd hour on Friday turned out to be quite the ordeal indeed.

Everyone in the class was up and about, doing various things around the room, as it was one of those days where you do stations or something. Adam just finished all his work, so he walked up to the front of the room to turn it in. Elsa was sitting in her desk as Adam walked by it.

He accidentally knocked her stuff to the ground.

HORRORS.

He genuinely didn't mean to do it. Her folder was protruding out into the aisle too much, and he accidentally bumped it. It happens.

Still, it happen _ed_ in Adam's case. Elsa bent down to pick up her stuff, but Adam, despite protests from his brain, merely stated "I got it, sorry," while getting down to pick up her fallen belongings, which consisted of a couple folders, a pencil case, and a book. It appeared to be written by someone named Robert Galbraith.

As he put her stuff back on her desk, he heard her thank him. This was completely unnecessary, as _he_ knocked over _her_ things, but nevertheless, Adam responded with a simple "You're welcome."

And then he did the stupidest thing he could have done. Rather than continuing on his merry path to the front of the room, he looked at the cover of the book, and said "Galbraith, huh? He's pretty good, I like his work."

Every alarm bell imaginable started screaming in his head at once.

 _"you idiot why would you say that you've never read anything by him why are you trying to start a conversation now awkward get out of there help"  
_

"It's actually not a he. This is a pen name used by J.K. Rowling, the author of Harry Potter. It's a very good book. Have you read it?"

Adam paused for a second.

She actually responded to his unbelievably awkward statement. Why?

 _"Wait a second, slow down. Maybe SHE doesn't think what I said is very awkward. Roll with it, roll with it. Pretend I've read the book."_

"Yeah. The ending was the best part. I won't spoil it though, I promise."

To the eternal bewilderment of Adam, she actually giggled just the tiniest amount. "Okay then, thank you very much," she said.

Adam pondered the next course of action. There was nowhere else to turn in the discussion regarding the book. After careful debate behind closed doors in the confines of his mind for all of one second, he decided to cut and run.

"You're welcome. Well, I gotta go turn in this assignment, see you later," he said, turning to walk away.

 _"Why'd I add that last part, 'see you later', yeah right, as if she'll EVER even think of..."_

"Bye."

 _"Oh. Never mind, then."_

Adam turned in his assignment and returned to his seat. It was a good distance away from Elsa. He smiled.

 _"Well that first conversation went better than I expected. Actually, I didn't expect a first conversation at all, really. Huh."_

* * *

Finally, Saturday arrived. The first weekend in Arendelle, and, more importantly, the day of the tryouts.

They were being held at 6:00 AM.

SIX AM.

Nevertheless, Adam was ready. He made sure all of his equipment was ready to go. He showered at 5:15 AM. He had a hearty breakfast. He was ready to overcome ANY challenge that came his way.

After his exhausted father dropped him off at the school and wished him good luck through a yawn, Adam headed for the ice rink. His dad refused to believe that the rink would open, until Adam showed him their schedule, clearly stating the rink was open 24 hours a day on weekends. Once he was in the locker room (they had a different locker room that all the sports teams used interchangeably, rather than the individual boy/girl changing locker rooms used for gym), he changed into his equipment. His skates, his padding, everything. He was ready to go.

He went through the door leading to the rink. He wondered what it would feel like doing this before an actual game. They never made dramatic entrances when he played in Minnesota.

He stepped out onto the ice. He held his stick tight, ready for a pass. Bring it on.

...

Bring it on.

...

Bring it on?

Adam looked around. The ice, the stands, what appeared to be a press box situated near the ceiling, everything.

Nobody was here.

 _"No matter,"_ Adam thought. _"Coach will be here in a few minutes."_

Adam took a few laps around the ice to warm up. It felt wonderful to be back out on the ice, hockey stick in hand, almost fully dressed to play; he still didn't have a jersey, only pads and his undershirt. Still, it had been far too long.

And he kept doing laps. Then, after about 10 minutes, he took a break. He headed for the bench.

And there he remained for 30 more.

After carefully observing nearly every detail in the arena in that time, including a large stack of traffic cones behind the bench he was sitting on, Adam decided to take a few shots at the net, now that they were set up. One problem: he didn't have a puck.

 _"Well then, I gotta find one."_

He looked. In the benches. The penalty box. He checked the locker room. The stands. He even looked through the windows of the press box, although the door was locked, so it wouldn't have mattered.

He couldn't find one. But he did find a tennis ball. I guess that could be a substitute.

By that point it was 1 hour and 15 minutes past the time coach was supposed to be here. _"If he's not here by 8, I'll leave."_

Adam went back down to the surface of the ice. Once he was positioned a good distance from the net, he laid the tennis ball down on the ice. With a great windup, he fired a rocket of a shot.

It sailed over the glass and into the seats.

 _"Rough. But I'm still rusty. I haven't taken a shot in 3 months."_

Sighing to himself, Adam retrieved the tennis ball from the seats and set up again. Once again, he wound up and blasted a shot.

It sailed over the glass and into the seats.

 _"There must be something wrong with the ball."_

And so, this continued for the remaining 45 minutes. He would occasionally come close. He actually shot it in the net once. He only sent it over the glass one or two more times.

Adam took a look at the clock. It read 8:00 AM.

 _"I've given him plenty of time. I'll find him on Monday and demand what happened."_

Adam headed for the door to the locker room. Just as he was about to open it, he heard a voice behind him.

"Where are you going?"

Sure enough, it was Coach Quinn. He looked very tired. That was no excuse to Adam.

"Where am I going? I was about to leave, considering I've been waiting here for the past two hours. Where have you been?" he demanded. He probably should have said it in a nicer tone, but he couldn't help it; he was upset. He also wasn't intimidated anymore.

"Why did you come here so early? I told you to arrive at 8 AM."

"No, you said 6."

"Did I now? Eh, I can't remember."

Adam could barely believe this conversation.

Yawning, Coach Quinn flipped through a few papers on his clipboard.

"Anyways, welcome to tryouts for the Central Arendelle High School Ice Harvesters hockey team, try your absolute hardest, blah blah blah. You ready to go?" he asked, after reading what was at the top of the page he was looking at. Or at least, what he felt like reading.

All of Adam's previous excitement returned to him. "You bet."

"Okay. To start, I'll be timing your speed. Do a full lap around the ice as fast as you can. Start from this end."

Adam lined up where he was instructed. When the still painfully loud whistle blew, Adam was off. After he completed the lap, he noticed Coach Quinn writing what was presumably his time on his clipboard.

"Okay. Next, we'll be testing your agility. Let me set up the cones," he said, while walking over to behind the bench and grabbing the big stack of them. So that's what they were for.

Coach Quinn lined them up, one after another, all the way down the ice.

"Alright, just skate between the cones. I'll be timing you, but I'll also be paying attention to how you do. Get ready."

Adam set himself up at the end of the line.

The whistle blew.

Adam was off, weaving his way through each cone with pinpoint accuracy. It was very easy.

As he approached the end, he heard Coach Quinn yell for him to do it again, this time back towards him.

Adam did what he asked. It felt even easier the second time.

Once he had completed the exercise, he skated up to the coach. "So, what's next?" he asked. It could be anything. Herbies? Shooting drills? Hopefully not shooting drills.

"Nothing. I've seen everything I need to. I said I wouldn't add you if you didn't impress, but you most certainly have. Report to practice on September 1st. 7:00 PM. You'll be wearing number 4."

Coach Quinn turned around to leave, without even bothering to pick up the cones. Adam just grinned.

* * *

 **And cut. This chapter's run on long enough.**

 **Well, it seems that Elsa's personality is actually very different from what Adam was expecting. Speaking of them, that little sequence with Adam and Elsa was certainly awkward. Tremendously, painfully awkward (at least for Adam). Just the way I intended it to be XD. In all seriousness, however, I know some of you may be getting impatient with how slowly the high school romance thing is coming along. Well, the next chapter's gonna be a bucket of fun. I will admit, however, that it's been harden to plan Kristoff/Anna than it has been with Adam/Elsa. I'm not gonna lie, although all four characters will obviously receive attention, the main focus here will be Adam/Elsa. With that being said, I'm most certainly not ignoring Kristoff/Anna. I've been reading a ton of of Kristanna (is that even the right word?) fics to try and get the imagination juices going, so we'll see how it goes.**

 **I know it seems kinda strange how I took time to specifically mention a character named Dimitri Anisimov, only for him to not be mentioned again in the chapter: don't worry, he'll pop up again soon. Like Kristoff said, he plays for the hockey team.**

 **Speaking along the lines of characters being dropped, I know it also seems like I've kinda removed Hans from the story. Well, wouldn't it be a surprise if he actually pl...**

 **You know, I think I've identified a new weakness in my writing: chapter length. Each chapter has been longer than the previous. I'll try to balance it out at about 5k words a chapter from now on, although there may be times when I'll have to use many more than that.**

 **I heard J.K. Rowling recently wrote a book under a pen name, so I used that as the book Elsa was reading during the "conversation" she and Adam had. I haven't read the book myself, so I have no idea what's in it. I chose it for the heck of it.**

 **Number 4 was chosen as Adam's uniform number because one of my favorite NHL defenseman, Niklas Hjalmarsson, wears it. Come to think of it, Adam's play style is very similar to his: extremely defensive minded. Also, 4 is a cool number.**

 **Oaken in a business suit. Ha.**

 **I'm out of stuff to say for this ending note.**

 **Have a nice day.**


	5. Chapter 5

**How's everybody doing, and welcome back to Cold Defense.**

 **Okay, I'm not gonna lie: despite my previous proclamation claiming this chapter would be a "bucket of fun", I can say with 100% certainty that this isn't the best chapter I've ever written. Still, I think you'll enjoy it.**

 **This will be the only chapter that has an almost "angsty" feel to it; the more lighthearted tone that defined the past few chapters will most assuredly be back.**

 **Finally, I know I promised shorter chapters. Yeah, not this one, sorry. It couldn't be helped, lol.**

 **Well, enough from me. On with the story.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Frozen. Never have, never will.**

Present

 _"Thoughts"_

 **Author's Note**

 _ **Flashback**_ **(this is actually used for more than just the line below, for a change)**

* * *

 ** _"Report to practice on September 1st. 7:00 PM. You'll be wearing number 4."_**

* * *

September 1st. Exactly one week from the day of the tryouts.

Naturally, when Adam informed Olaf, Sven, and Kristoff of the news that he had made the team, all of them were thrilled. Kristoff, however, was not the least bit surprised; after all, the regular displays of skating prowess he witnessed from Adam on a daily basis in gym all but ensured his appointment to the roster. Olaf and Sven were in for a little bit of a shock, as they had no idea just how good Adam really was.

Adam, on the other hand, was obviously excited about the fact he had made the team (and he did it very easily, at that), but he was worried about one thing: his offense. He hadn't really bothered to talk to any of the group about his actual play style, which was defense first, and he had yet to show any of his offensive "skills" to Coach Quinn. If they knew just how inept he was at actually shooting and passing the puck, would they so willingly accept him for the team?

Well, it was too late for that. Adam was in. He even had his jersey number.

Everyone in the group was eager to get onto the ice for hockey, even if it was only practice. Thus, the week practically flew by, with the sense of anticipation growing each day.

Finally, September 1st arrived, a Saturday. And the first practice.

At around 6:45 PM, Adam's mother dropped him off at the school, wishing him good luck on his first day with the new team. As he headed into the school and towards the locker room, hockey bag in hand, he was practically bursting with energy. It was good to feel great be back out there, playing the game.

After entering the locker room, Adam looked around: all the stalls had name tags bearing the names of the players. His locker was at the far end of the room, near the entrance to the ice rink.

Each locker had a helmet and a jersey inside. Since Adam had to fill out a few size charts as part of the paperwork he needed to officially join the club, everything would be his size, rather than receiving a jersey 5 sizes too big or something. Adam quickly looked around the room again, at the other jerseys; none of the other lockers were empty, so nobody else had arrived yet.

Deciding to change into his gear, Adam took everything he would need out of his bag. Once he did that, he put on all of his hockey pads, as well as his skates. Finally, he took the jersey out of his locker and took a good look at it.

The sweater **(another word commonly used when referring to a hockey jersey)** was very simple: it was green, but it wasn't a green that was too dark or too light. The strange logo depicting the sled wasn't on the front, but instead the words CENTRAL ARENDELLE, very similar to how it appeared on the shirt everyone wore for gym. Rounding out the details, a white stripe ran across the bottom of the jersey. and well as across both sleeves. There was no last name on the back, but it had the number 4 Adam was told he'd wear.

Smiling a little, Adam slipped on his new jersey for the first time, feeling a little proud. After all, a team's uniform is their identity. When people see a team, they see the players, and they see the jersey they wear. Often the number of the individual player, too. The number's worn by the great players were often retired from circulation by a team (or the whole league, in extremely rare circumstances) for a reason.

Once he put on his helmet, Adam was ready to go. Heading out to the ice surface through the now familiar entryway, he thought he might see Coach Quinn or someone else out there, but he was by himself. This time, however, things were clearly set up for a practice, as a big pile of hockey pucks sat on the boards in front of the bench. There was also some equipment scattered around the benches and penalty boxes.

Deciding to take a few shots with a real puck this time, Adam grabbed one at the top of the pile. As he skated with the puck at the end of his stick, everything seemed to be going well. As he approached the net, he fired a wrist shot.

It missed the net.

 _"Same old problems."_

"Rough shot, huh?"

Turning around to identify who had just entered the room, Adam was pleased to see that it was Sven. Sven, being the starting goalie, had all of his equipment on except for his goalie mask, which was in his hand.

"Eh, bad luck," said Adam.

"That's what they all say," Sven replied while laughing. "Here, take a few shots at me. I gotta warm up."

Adam went to retrieve the puck that had strayed towards the center of the ice, while Sven put on his mask. Getting in position in front of the net and lightly tapping both goal posts with his stick (clearly some kind of good luck superstition), he got ready to make a save.

"Alright, give me your best shot!" he yelled.

After standing still for a few seconds, Adam took off. Skating towards the goal with the puck, Sven responded by getting low to the ground, ready to drop; he was apparently a butterfly goalie. Using this knowledge to his advantage, Adam decided to aim for the high part of the net, specifically high glove side.

Just as he got close to the net, he fired. His shot rang off the crossbar.

Quickly turning away from Sven to avoid a collision, Adam hit his stick against the ice, a little frustrated. Sven stood up and lifted his mask, making his face visible again.

"I think I got a piece of that. Otherwise that was a goal. Nice shot," he said.

"Thanks. Like I said, bad luck," replied Adam. Secretly, although he was a little upset he didn't score, he was also extremely glad he was able to get it near the net at all.

Just as they were about to run the exercise again, the door slid open and the footsteps of several pairs of skates echoed throughout the arena. Taking a look to see who had arrived, Adam saw three people.

The first was Olaf, excited as ever.

The second was Kristoff, who looked almost angry.

Finally, the third was...

Hans?

Adam found himself staring at the now empty doorway for a few seconds as all the new arrivals took to the ice. Blinking a few times to snap out of his daze, Adam immediately skated over to Kristoff.

"HE plays for the hockey team?" asked Adam, obviously taken by surprise.

"Yeah. He's a winger. He's actually pretty good. Didn't I ever tell you this?" said Kristoff.

"No. I don't know anyone on the team except for you, Sven, Olaf, and that Anisimov kid that's in our gym class."

"What'd you say?"

As if on cue, the kid known as Dimitri Anisimov walked out of the locker room, and had already skated up to them.

"I heard my name. What's going on?" he said, in a rather noticeable accent.

"Nothing. Just mentioning how you're in our gym class," replied Adam.

"Oh. Okay."

Just as Adam was thinking of something else to say, his thoughts were interrupted by a loud yell coming from near the entrance to the locker room.

"DIMITRI! GET OVER HERE!"

Responding to the call, Dimitri took off towards the location of the mystery voice, which also had a very similar accent. Realizing he had no idea who most of the players were, Adam's curiosity once again set in. He turned back to where Kristoff was, but the taller boy had already taken off, and was now in the process of skating a few laps around the ice. Thankfully, Olaf was nearby, practicing his handles with the puck on his stick. That kid had some serious moves.

"Olaf!" he called across the ice to where he was.

"Yeah?" he yelled back.

"Get over here so we can actually talk instead of yelling like this!"

Deciding that was probably a good idea, Olaf skated to where Adam was. Once he got there, he sharply stopped, kicking up a snowstorm all over Adam. Adam didn't appreciated it.

"Was that really necessary?" he calmly asked.

"Sorry about that. What do you need?" replied Olaf. He appeared to be genuinely sorry, and Adam _did_ appreciate the apology.

"Could you give me a quick rundown on who else is on the team besides us, Sven, Kristoff, and Hans?"

"Sure. Well, for starters, we got the trio over there," said Olaf.

"The trio?" asked Adam, a little confused.

"Yeah. Their names are Dimitri, Viktor, and Sergei. They're all brothers. I think they said they were born in St. Petersburg, Russia, which is why they have Russian accents, because they're Russian, go figure. Dimitri plays center, and Viktor and Sergei are wingers. They also all play on the same line. We collectively refer to them as the Green Line," said Olaf, all without taking a breath. He simply never ran out of energy, no matter what he was doing. Adam wondered to himself how well it translated to hockey games.

"Green Line, huh? Why?"

"Why not?"

"Fair enough. What about the defense? Is it good?" asked Adam.

"Our defense was the worst in the league last year. Our offense, though, was in the top half of the league, so that's not why we lost so many games."

Adam grinned a little bit at this. It sounded like his skill set translated perfectly to what the team needed.

By now, it seemed that everyone had arrived at practice, doing various things all around the ice. Adam took a look, trying to see if there were any faces he could recognize from any of his classes, but he couldn't find any. Nearly everyone was a complete stranger.

In addition to the rest of the players, Coach Quinn had also arrived. Blowing into his whistle, he gruffly yelled "Alright, gather 'round!"

Once everyone was gathered, he began to speak:

"Okay. Welcome to the first practice of the 2015-16 season. Before we start celebrating, I want you to remember just how well we did last year. Anyone?"

A voice Adam didn't identify was the first to speak. "We won 6 games, coach."

"I don't think of it as winning 6 games. I think of it as losing 24," replied the coach. "Still, the reason I bring this is up is not to discourage, but to motivate. Are we really just going to sit down, and accept another season like that? Or do we wanna make something out of this year?"

Everyone except for Adam tapped their sticks against the ice. It was apparently some kind of motivational thing?

It's as simple as that. A playoff spot is there for the taking. We just have to grab it."

Deciding that was enough with the motivation, Coach Quinn decided to move on to the next order of business.

"Alright, since we've had plenty of time to get warmed up, we're gonna start tonight's practice with a 6 on 6 scrimmage. Team 1, you'll consist of Olaf, Niklas, and Hans at the forward spots, Kristoff and Joakim on defense, and Sven in goal. Team 2, you'll consist of the Green Line at forward, Bertil and Adam on defense, and Antti in net. The scrimmage ends when a team scores," yelled Coach Quinn.

Adam was beyond elated. Although he wished he could've played on the same defensive pairing as Kristoff, he was just glad to be playing at all.

With both teams lines up for the opening face-off, Coach Quinn skated to the center of the ice, serving as the referee in this scrimmage. Both centermen were hunched over, ready to battle for the first possession. Once he was in position, coach dropped the puck right on the dot. The game was on.

Dimitri won the face-off, and the puck found its way to Adam. Taking a few strides back to survey the situation, Adam was surprised to see Olaf skating right towards him; it was unusual for a forward to be this aggressive on defense. Realizing he only had a few seconds before he caught up, Adam fired a quick pass to his defensive partner, someone named Bertil, who proceeded to make a pass to Dimitri. Olaf didn't stop coming, however, instead attempting to lay the body check on Adam. Thankfully, he wasn't very tall or heavy, so Adam stayed on his feet, but he was definitely taken back a little by how aggressive Olaf was on defense; it was almost reckless.

"Jeez, are you always this intense during games?" asked Adam, skating up the ice to join the advance.

"Uh huh, that's just how I play. Now shut up, we got a game going here," replied Olaf, striding up to rejoin the play. Adam did the same.

The Green Line brought the puck into the offensive zone, in a 3 on 3 situation. Dimitri, being the center and thus the playmaker, passed the puck to Viktor, who then in turn attempted to pass the puck to Sergei. Kristoff, however, predicted this and got in the passing lane, intercepting the puck. Olaf, sensing an opportunity, immediately shot up the ice, ready to receive a pass. He got his wish.

Adam, realizing Olaf had a breakaway, put on the jets, skating as fast as he could to catch up. Olaf, who thought he was in the clear, began to execute a fancy move to get the goalie out of position when he had the puck swatted away by Adam. A great defensive play.

The puck skittered to the right side of the ice, where Adam and Kristoff got in a battle against the boards to gain possession. Adam won this particular bout, coming away with the puck. Noticing that Dimitri was in the exact same position Olaf had just been a moment ago, Adam made a pass to him. It connected.

Dimitri had a breakaway. Neither Kristoff nor the other defenseman had a prayer of catching up.

After seeing Dimitri bring the puck to his backhand, Sven dropped to the ice, expecting the shot. He expected it too early, leaving the entire top half of the next exposed.

Dimitri, seeing all of that daylight on the top shelf, fired a shot.

He scored.

As soon as the puck found its way in the net, Coach Quinn blew his whistle, bring an end to the scrimmage.

"Alright, that's the game. Teams 3 and 4, get on the ice."

Teams 3 and 4 (which were apparently assigned during the first scrimmage), exited the benches and poured onto the ice, while teams 1 and 2 took their previous places. As Adam took a seat on the far end of the bench, Dimitri occupied the space to his left. He offered his glove for a fist bump.

"Nice pass."

Adam returned the gesture.

* * *

After the excitement of the first practice had passed, things began feeling a little more... slow. Sure, they were still doing scrimmages, exercises, fitness, whatever, but the reality of the situation was beginning to set in: it was just practice. The real season had yet to begin. They couldn't wait.

During their various experiences throughout the month, Adam certainly learned quite a bit about his teammates. It turned out that Olaf was the best player on the team, and it wasn't particularly close. Sure, he was small, but that kid could _skate_. Not to mention, he had incredible moves with the puck on his stick, and he could pull them off during games. He was also an exceptional shooter.

Kristoff was also a very good defenseman, although he wasn't as good in the defense end as Adam. He made up for it, however, with his offensive ability; Olaf has the most accurate shot, but Kristoff had the hardest. Not to mention, he was very adept at hitting, which was to be expected, given his large size. His only flaw was his speed, as he wasn't very fast. This made it easier for guys like Olaf, as they could use sheer athleticism to get by him, but if they got anywhere close enough for Kristoff to lay a body check, it was game over.

Sven, on the other hand... just didn't measure up. He wasn't particularly _bad,_ but he certainly wasn't about to win any games by himself, either. He was very good at stopping shots down low, but it was when the puck began to elevate to the top of the net that the problems began to arise, with the glove hand in particular being his weak spot. The flaw of being largely unable to effectively cover the top of the net stood out to Adam on the first day, and it only became more glaring as the practices wore on.

The Green Line turned out to be quite the force. With nearly perfect communication and teamwork, it was as if they made their own plays on the spot, until Adam realized that was exactly what they were doing. No matter what, though, they were the most complete offensive line Coach Quinn had to utilize on the team, and he certainly did so, as they received the most minutes.

Hans turned out to be a pretty unremarkable player. He certainly wasn't bad, but he didn't really stand out, either. He was about as average a forward as they come. Still, he actually was a pretty hard worker, something Adam appreciated.

Adam turned out to be exactly what he was in Minnesota: an exceptional defensive player that was almost completely useless on offense. To be fair, he had that one nice pass during the first scrimmage, but that was really it from him during their practices in terms of offense. During the first few games, the team would feed the puck to him expecting a shot, but they soon learned that this was a futile hope, as the few times he actually did shoot badly missed. This resulted in them instead using him as a last resort pass option. Adam was fine with this, as he knew his place. He was never going to be some high scoring defenseman, but that's not what he was here to do; he was here to play defense. And he certainly didn't disappoint on that end.

The rest of the team seemed to be putting in the work, as they all showed a desire to improve during practices. Still, during scrimmages and defensive exercises, one thing became painfully clear to Adam: the defense was BAD.

Sure, he and Kristoff were doing pretty well, but the rest of the team just didn't compare. The problem wasn't that they weren't trying, but rather constantly being caught out of position, or making reckless gambles that didn't pay off. Olaf definitely wasn't kidding when he said the defense was the worst in the league last year. It also explained why Olaf was so reckless on defense during their scrimmages, as he was just trying to help the team make up ground by playing a more complete game.

Once again, Adam felt like his skill set translated perfectly to his new team. The team needed defense. He was very good at defense. He couldn't do everything by himself, but he could certainly help solidify the situation.

Outside of hockey, there wasn't very much going on that was interesting. By now, Adam and his family had mostly settled into their new house, and their new jobs. With classes beginning once again at Arendelle University, his father wasn't around as much as he used to. The same could also be said for his mother, as the insurance company was going through a rather busy phase, one that required all hands on deck. Because both of his parents were now only home for a little while each day, things began to feel a little lonely around the house.

Still, his parents were nice enough to get him a new bicycle. Now he could get to school without relying on a ride. It's a shame you had to be 18 before you could get your driver's license in Arendelle, but whatever.

School was going well. The classes weren't particularly difficult, and Adam, in addition to his regular group, had also made friends with a few other guys from the hockey team, specifically the entire Green Line.

But there was one thing he wasn't happy about. Ever since that little incident on that Friday, he had yet to speak to Elsa again. So much for progress.

Adam really couldn't understand why he had never attempted to initiate another conversation. It was probably a combination of his own shyness and... no, that was really it. He was shy. So was Kristoff.

While Adam hadn't spoken to Elsa in quite some time, Kristoff hadn't spoken to Anna at _all_. Just like Adam, his problem was that he was shy. It was fairly obvious that a conversation between the two would never come about... unless something made it happen.

So, the month of September and the first week of October passed by, rather slowly now that the daily grind of school set in, but father time kept right on marching.

Finally, the day arrived. October 8th. The first game of the season.

It was a home game, meaning that the team could probably expect their biggest crowd of the season. Obviously, you want to start a season out on the right foot, so everyone was gearing up to get that first win.

Everyone except for Adam.

The day before the first game, during practice, Coach Quinn announced the lineup for the season opener. 20 players are required for a roster during a game: 12 forwards, 6 defensemen, and 2 goalies, 1 as the starter, and 1 as the backup. The Ice Harvesters had 21 available players. Someone would have to sit out.

That someone was, you guessed it, Adam.

Adam was obviously disappointed, but he understood the decision. After all, he was the new guy. He had only participated in a few practices with the team. Observing from afar for this first game, and getting a feel for how the team functioned was probably the best thing for him. Probably.

Thus, when the Central Arendelle Ice Harvesters took to the ice for the opening game of the 2015-16 season, Adam watched from the stands.

They lost 4-1. Defensive lapses did them in.

* * *

As the team filed into the locker room, the mood was rather quiet. Nobody was expected to be chatty after a loss (not even Olaf), and nobody was. It was almost a little disheartening.

As Kristoff removed his jersey and padding, leaving only his undershirt, he thought back to the events of tonight's game. There weren't many fond memories; he was on the ice for 2 of the goals the other team scored. There was very little he could have done about either, as both of the forwards were faster than he was.

Speed. As soon as he thought of what could have been done to slow down the opposing forwards, his thoughts went to Adam. He was one of the fastest skaters on the team, and obviously the best defensively. He would have helped tremendously during this game.

As soon as he thought of the Minnesota native, Kristoff wondered to himself why Adam wasn't chosen to play in the game. Why would coach leave him out of the lineup? Was it because he was inept offensively? No, that couldn't be it, the team was fine when it came to scoring (although the offense was rather dry tonight, only scoring one goal). Defense was the problem. It just didn't add up in Kristoff's mind why he wouldn't play.

Based on the facial expressions of Sven and Olaf, who appeared as if they were deep in thought, Kristoff had a feeling they were wondering the same thing. Why didn't Coach Quinn put Adam in the lineup?

* * *

With the Ice Harvesters record standing at 0-1, things began to get a little restless. Communication on the ice didn't seem as strong. Arguments during practice became just a tad more frequent. Coach started stressing the little things more: hustle, fighting for the puck, that sort of thing. The situation was by no mears dire, however. It was just one loss. They could easily make up that ground and more.

A few days later, during a practice Coach Quinn scheduled the day before their next game, Adam was pulled aside during scrimmages.

"Adam, I've decided to have you sit out of the lineup for tomorrow's game."

Adam was floored. He could understand sitting out the opener to gain a little knowledge on how the team operated, as well as realizing that everyone deserved a fair chance. But if everyone _was_ supposed to receive an equal opportunity, shouldn't he have been drawn in to play in the next game?

No matter the reason, the decision was final. As much as he wanted to, Adam couldn't argue. It would only make things worse.

"Fine."

"Thank you for understanding. It's a difficult position, not being able to play everyone every game. I'm sorry this isn't quite what you expected," replied the coach. He then proceeded to blow his whistle.

"Alright! That's enough, let's have a quick free skate before we pack it up for the night," he yelled, indicating the scrimmages were over.

Once the coach finished this command, everyone on the benches headed out to the ice, beginning their skate of a few laps to finish off tonight's practice. Adam caught up with Kristoff, Olaf, and Sven.

"What did coach call you over for?" asked Sven as he noticed Adam skate up to them.

"He told me I'm sitting out tomorrow's game."

"Again?! That's ridiculous, you'd help the team more than anyone!" exclaimed Kristoff. He was visibly frustrated with the coach's decision, even though it didn't directly impact him.

"Apparently he doesn't think so. He didn't give me a reason as to why I'm not playing tomorrow, though." said Adam in a sad tone.

"Well, don't worry about it. Your time will come," said Olaf, ever the optimist.

"Thanks, Olaf. I sure hope so."

* * *

Because it was another home game, Adam once again watched from the stands. It wasn't difficult to find a seat.

Once again, the team lost. 6-1 this time. Ugly.

It was painful for Adam up in the stands. Only Kristoff held his own defensively on the ice, while everyone else was merely cannon fodder, completely helpless to stop the onslaught. Watching his teammates get embarrassed down there, knowing he very well could have made a difference made it even more difficult.

Although Adam wasn't there, Kristoff later explained to him the scene in the locker room after that second defeat. Everyone was growing a little restless, with the goals against piling up and the offense remaining largely stagnant. Apparently Hans and Olaf even got into a little bit of a shouting match. It died down pretty quickly, but it was clear the damage was done. The happy atmosphere from a week and a half ago was gone, replaced with anxiety and... mistrust? Either way, it was pretty rough.

There wasn't supposed to be another practice before their next game (a road game, for a change), but Coach Quinn decided to hold one anyways. All the normal exercises were scheduled again, but things felt a little different this time. Nobody seemed particularly enthused. It was as if everyone was dreading the next game, which was probably the case.

During the agility exercises, the same ones that Adam had to do in the tryouts, Coach Quinn again pulled him aside, to inform him that...

* * *

"Damn it."

The mood at the lunch table was, to put it lightly, somber. Olaf was dead silent. Sven had none of the usual intelligent observations that were always on the tip of his tongue. And Kristoff was just staring into space.

The reason for the mood being so dark? Adam had just relayed to them for the first time what Coach told him.

He was sitting out. Again.

* * *

 ** _"Listen, I know it's been 3 straight but..." started the coach._**

 ** _Adam already knew what he was going to say._**

 ** _"You're sitting me out. Again."_**

 ** _"You know this is a difficult decision..."_**

 ** _Adam didn't care about that anymore._**

 ** _"No, it's really not. Why? Why do you insist on having me NOT play?" Adam asked, in a harsh tone of voice. He knew in his mind that he was only digging his own grave, but that didn't matter by this point. It wasn't like he would lose playing time by being disrespectful._**

 ** _"You don't understand. Things are different here than what you're used to. It's best for you if you observe for now," said coach, remaining calm._**

 ** _"I've observed plenty. I've observed the team get torched time and time again. I've observed helpless defense that doesn't know what to do. You know that's what I specialize in, defense. Yet you still refuse to play me."_**

 ** _"If it was that easy, I'd have you..."_**

 ** _"If it was that easy, you'd let me play. And you don't let me play. Answer honestly, is it because of how incompetent I am at offense?"_**

 ** _The coach remained silent._**

 ** _"That's what I thought," said Adam as he skated away. He wasn't told he could leave, but he didn't care. He really didn't._**

* * *

"I know I'm bad at offense. And you all know I'm working hard to improve that."

It was true. Adam had worked on his offensive game in nearly all of their practices, working as hard as he could to improve, and show Coach Quinn he was ready for game action. It wasn't working.

"Adam, I don't know what else we can do. We've all tried talking to him, but he just dismisses it every time we bring up how unfair he's being," said Kristoff, snapping out of his thousand yard stare.

Adam appreciated everything that his friends were doing for him. They all vouched for him. And they weren't the only ones.

The Green Line, who Adam played with the most during scrimmages, all wanted him in the lineup. Hans actually said that it would help the team. Even the defenseman who was PLAYING IN THE LAST SPOT ON THE TEAM said it would be better if Adam played a few games.

It all fell on deaf ears.

* * *

Adam looked at the clock that rested on top of the shelf in front of him: the time read 9:00 PM. Sighing to himself, he turned over on the couch he was lying down on.

The team was playing a game that night, but it was on the road, and both of Adam's parents were working late that night. Consequently, they couldn't give Adam a ride (as it was too far away to reach on his bike), so he was essentially stranded.

He didn't mind, to be honest. The team would probably lose 5-2 or something. Due to bad defense.

Only a single light was illuminated in the house, a small lamp in the other room. After staring in the dark for a few seconds, Adam sat up. He was deep in thought.

 _"I think the rink at school is still open,"_ he thought. _"I could probably get in a little practice. Alone."_

His mind was set.

After writing a quick note explaining where he was to his parents when they arrived back home, Adam packed all of his gear into his back. Heading out into the garage, he took off on his bicycle, down the now familiar road to the school.

During his bike ride, Adam thought about everything that had happened in the past day or so. The first and most prominent of these was how close he came to quitting the team during their most recent practice. He was in front of Coach Quinn's office, his fist raised, ready to knock on the door. Yes, he was _that_ discouraged.

The only reason he didn't follow through was because he remembered what Olaf told him at the lunch table: "Your time will come." As unlikely as it seemed at that exact moment, Adam knew what he said was probably true; he had to play at _some point,_ right?

Right?

Adam's bike pulled into the parking lot of the school. There were still a few lights on in various rooms, so a few people were still here. That probably meant the ice rink was also open.

Adam went around to the back entrance, checking to see if it was locked. When he saw that it wasn't (an oversight by the school), he entered and headed straight for the locker room. He knew that there wouldn't be any other events going on, so he would probably have the whole rink to himself.

Quickly changing into his gear once he arrived in the lockers, he discovered that none of the jerseys hung in the stalls, meaning he could only wear his pads, with no sweater to cover them. It didn't matter.

Once he was fully dressed in his gear, Adam headed out to the ice, carrying with him his hockey stick and a puck. He brought one this time.

Once he stepped out onto the ice, he saw that the only lights turned on were the ones directly above the ice surface, with the seats being completely shrouded in darkness. If he shot the puck over the net, there would be no retrieving it tonight. Adam took this as motivation.

Neither of the nets were set up, but they were both moved to the side, near the benches. Adam skated over there, with the intention one of them up in its normal place.

Placing his cell phone that he made sure to bring on the bench, Adam brought the net over to the goal crease. With the moorings still stuck in the ice, it was relatively easy to set up the net and ensure it remained there.

Once everything was ready, Adam skated a fair distance away from the goal, with the puck on his stick. It was very similar to what he did on the day of the tryouts, except he was using a tennis ball instead. But things were different back then, even if it was only a week and a half ago.

Adam wound up for a shot. The puck flew through the air... and went just wide.

Cursing to himself, Adam skated over to collect the puck and tried again. Same result.

By this point, the fury was palpable. Once again, he retrieved the puck. Once again, he fired a shot.

It rang off the pipe. It didn't go in.

Adam didn't know if it was the sound the puck made as it clanged off the metal pipe, as if it was mocking him, the anger he had built up from the past week, or a combination of both, but one thing was obvious: it made him snap.

With a yell of anger, Adam threw his stick as hard as he could at the net. He didn't miss the mark this time. The sound was probably loud enough to be heard outside the arena.

Adam stood there for a second, completely still. He knew that what he just did was completely pointless, but that didn't matter. It felt good. He normally took his anger out by playing hockey, but for once, he was taking his anger out _at_ hockey.

Deciding he needed a break from shooting the puck, Adam decided to take a few laps around the ice, to clear his mind. There was certainly a lot on it.

As he began his slow strides around the rink, Adam thought about everything that had happened since he had arrived in Arendelle. Up until hockey began, things felt like they were progressing as well as the possibly could. He had a great group of friends. He was doing well in his classes. Hell, he even found it in him to talk to Elsa, even if it was a brief and unbelievably awkward conversation. It was only when hockey began that things began going downhill.

It was ironic, when he thought about it. He was so excited when he first heard about the hockey team; he was counting on it to be the tether that kept him down to earth. He was expecting school to be hell, with hockey being his saving grace, but it was the opposite. Still, that felt like it was years ago. This was, unfortunately, now.

Adam began to speed up his skating as these thoughts coursed through his mind. Before he realized it, he was going full speed, up and around the ice. He was exhausting himself, but he didn't care. It was exhilarating.

His frantic skating, however, was interrupted by the sound of the door opening. Adam stopped as quickly as he could, almost petrified. Could he actually get in trouble for being here? He would have to play the unaware card, claiming he didn't know.

But it wasn't a teacher. It was the last person on earth he expected.

It was Elsa.

...

Out of the millions of thoughts that Adam could have had at that moment, only one materialized: _"What is she doing here."_

It was a little too dark to get a good look, but Adam could tell she was in athletic clothing. She also had skates on. She was here for the exact same thing he was, to use the ice. That made sense, as she was apparently the top figure skater in the school.

Still, the timing was seemingly a billion to one chance. Unless she came here at night often.

Snapping back into reality, Adam realized he had been staring straight at where she entered for the past 30 seconds or so. It didn't seem like she had seen him yet, however, as he was in front of the benches, which was the least lit part of the ice with most of the lights in the arena being turned off. Nevertheless, all of the nervousness that he had felt when he accidentally knocked her stuff over that day returned with a vengeance.

 _"Act casual."_

Adam began skating around the rink again, albeit much slower than he had been a minute ago. By that point, Elsa was about to hit the ice, and she was also alert to his presence. It took her another few seconds to realize who it was.

"Oh, hi Adam."

Adam stopped and turned around, pretending that he was just alerted to her presence.

"...Hi, Elsa."

A moment of silence followed, as both of them just looked at the other for a moment. Surprisingly, Adam took the initiative.

"So, uh... if you don't mind me asking, what are you doing here?" he asked, in the least nervous tone he could manage.

"I just figured I'd go for a quick skate. If you don't mind, since you were here first," she replied.

Adam couldn't believe it. She was asking him if he would let her skate. With him. Well, not _with_ him, but on the same ice surface. Just the two of them.

Stuttering a little bit before he spoke, Adam said "N-no, go right ahead."

"Thanks."

Stepping onto the ice for the first time, Elsa began to slowly glide in the direction where Adam had set up the hockey net. Even the most simple of skating on the ice was elegant when she did it, however. Adam was a finesse skater by hockey standards, but he paled in comparison.

Just as Adam was about to continue the loop he had been doing around the ice before Elsa arrived, he heard a small bang against the boards and a yelp of surprise. Immediately skating over to where she was, Adam discovered that she had almost tripped over the hockey stick he had thrown.

"Are you alright?" he asked as soon as he got there.

"I'm fine. I just tripped over this... hockey stick, I didn't see it," she replied.

"Oh. That's a relief," said Adam.

After looking from the equipment to him (causing Adam to nervously fidget for a moment), Elsa spoke up again: "Why is all of this stuff scattered around the ice, anyways?"

It took Adam a moment to process that she was talking to him again. "What? Oh, sorry, all that stuff's mine. I play for the hockey team."

"You play for the team? Then why aren't you with them, they're playing right now," said Elsa.

Adam was about to reply when he realized something. "Wait. You know they're playing?"

"Yeah. So?"

Adam's suspicion level rose. "You follow the team?"

"Of course," she said. "I'm a huge hockey fan."

Adam couldn't believe it. Elsa continued.

"Why are you so surprised?"

"Well, it's just that... not very many people really know the team exists. That's why I'm surprised," responded Adam.

"Well, I know the team exists," she said with a slight giggle. "You still haven't really answered my question, though."

Adam knew she was right. He was about to make up an excuse about why he wasn't playing with the team, but something else overtook him. He wanted to talk. To explain EXACTLY why he wasn't playing, to get everything he was feeling off his chest. He knew this probably wasn't a good idea; he barely even knew Elsa, and he hadn't even told Kristoff, Olaf, and Sven about his true opinions on the matter. But for some reason, he just felt like he could... trust her.

Sighing, Adam said "Do you mind if I talk for a little bit? About why I'm not playing with the team, I mean."

Much to his surprise, Elsa nodded her head.

After tapping his fingers against the boards for a few seconds, Adam began.

"Well, the truth is... I don't know why I'm not playing. I show up for every practice, I work as hard, if not harder than the rest of the guys, I give it my all. And yet, coach refuses to play me. He's had me sit out of every game so far. I probably should have mentioned this earlier, but I'm a defenseman. I'm good at defense, and terrible at offense. Still, we've lost our games by a combined score of 10-2, so I think defense would definitely be appreciated a little. Yet I'm not playing, because the coach has something against me or whatever. I really don't know."

Finishing his miniature rant, Adam felt like a fool. He really did mean to convey what he was feeling into more rational thoughts, but it came out as that stupid rant instead. She probably thought he was just a babbling idiot.

Again to his surprise, though, Elsa gave him what appeared to be a sympathetic smile, and began to speak herself.

"I understand. It can be frustrating when you're deprived of an opportunity like that, I'm sure," she said, in a soft tone. Adam could barely believe her kindness.

As she said it, however, she began clutching both of her arms, as if she was shivering. Adam couldn't help but ask if she was okay.

"Hey, are you alright? It kinda looks like, you're, well... shaking," he said.

Elsa, who had begun to look at the ice, suddenly looked back up at Adam, with unusually sad eyes.

"It's nothing, I was just thinking," said Elsa, in an unconvincing tone.

Before he could stop himself, Adam asked "About what?"

She looked at him for a few moments. Unlike every other time, however, Adam didn't feel nervous. If she had something she needed to get off her chest, like he had just done, he would be glad to return the favor by listening.

Sure enough, just as he thought that, she said "Do you mind if I talk a little... kinda like what you just did?"

Adam just gave an very small smile. He wasn't even sure if she noticed it. "I'm all ears."

She started to speak: "Your story kinda reminded me of what I'm... going through, except, well, the opposite. Rather than not play, the problem is everyone expects so much from me just because I'm a good figure skater. I even heard my father talking with my mother about the Olympics!"

Adam was taken back by this. He had heard from people that she was good, but Olympic caliber? No wonder it seemed like she was stressed; the pressure must be enormous.

His thoughts were interrupted by her continuing: "I love figure skating, but with all the pressure and this and that, I don't know if I can do it. It's all becoming too much, as if I'm trapped."

Adam looked at her with the same sympathetic look she had given him, except without the smile. He wasn't exactly sure what to say. Elsa, however, took this as indifference.

"I can see you don't really care. Sorry for wasting your time," she said as she turned around, ready to skate away.

Adam, who had been grasping for something to say, was immediately brought back by her statement. "No, no, that's not it at all! I was just thinking of how to respond, that's all."

Elsa turned back to face him again. She waited.

After thinking for a moment, Adam spoke again: "Well, I can't really imagine being in that position, but I'm sure it's... stressful, to say the least. I'm sorry."

"No, it's fine, it's just, well... nobody seems to really understand. I keep telling my father that I really don't want to become a figure skating Olympian or whatever, but he won't hear it. I want to have a career in literature. Figure skating is just a hobby for me."

So that's why she always brought a book to class. It also explained why she was so upset about all of this; she didn't want to become a professional, she just enjoyed figure skating as an interest.

"I love skating, though, and I don't want to give it up completely. I just don't want it to be like my father envisions. I don't know what to do."

Adam thought for a second. "I think you should just keep trying to persuade him. I think by this point, that's all that can be done, really."

Adam thought this was terrible advice.

"Yeah, I guess you're right." Maybe not.

Now that that topic seemed to be closed, Adam struggled to think of something else to talk about. A ringtone interrupted the silence, however; it was Adam's phone, the one he placed on the bench.

"Hold on, that's my phone ringing," he told Elsa as he began to quickly skate over there. Elsa remained where she was.

As soon as he grabbed his phone, the first thing he noticed was that it was now almost 11:00 PM; time really flew by. He also saw the caller was his mother. Uh oh.

Adam hesitantly hit the "answer" button. "Hello?"

"He was expecting a shouting fit, but was relieved to hear his mom was relatively calm. "Hi, honey, are you still at the ice rink?"

"Yeah. Do you need me to come home?" he asked.

"Uh huh. Do you need a ride?"

"No, I rode my bike. I'll be fine," he said.

"Okay, just be safe. Hurry home," she said as she hung up the phone.

Adam skated back to where Elsa was, still holding his phone. "That was my mom. I have to go," he said while retrieving his hockey stick and the puck he brought.

She actually seemed... sad from this news? No matter what it was, she understood.

"That's okay, it's getting late. I'll be leaving in a few minutes too."

"Okay. So, I guess... bye," said Adam. He wanted to add something else to that, but he came up empty.

"Bye. Oh, and I'll see you in 3rd hour," she said with a smile.

Adam smiled back. "Yeah. See ya," he said as he began to skate off the ice, and into the locker room.

When she heard the door shut, indicating he had left the rink, Elsa wondered to herself why she... _trusted_ him so much during their conversation. After all, she had only really told all of this to her sister, before, and certainly not to someone she could only say she knew a little. And the answer she came up with was really quite simple: she felt like she connected with him during their talk. He had come out with his story first, he had placed all of _his_ trust in _her_ , and she basically gave it right back. It felt like they really understood each other.

Elsa smiled to herself. _"You know, this could be a great friendship,"_ she thought. _"And who knows..."_

* * *

As Adam pedaled back home on his bike, it suddenly dawned on him what he had just done.

He had just had an extended conversation with Elsa. Said conversation turned very personal.

She said goodbye to him. She even said that she would see him again in 3rd hour, basically guaranteeing they would talk again, unlike last time.

Adam still didn't have the hockey situation solved. But he could check one more box off of his list (if he had a list, of course).

 _"Oh my god."_

* * *

 **Well, that's about it. Yeah.**

 **Have a nice day.**


	6. Chapter 6

**How's everybody doing, and welcome back to Cold Defense.**

 **Although my last chapter was pretty good, something about it never struck a chord with me, if you will. I feel like this one is definitely a return to form, so I hope you enjoy.**

 **That's about it, really. On with the story.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Frozen. Never have, never will.**

Present

 _"Thoughts"_

 **Author's Note**

 _ **Flashback**_

* * *

The next day, Adam woke up at around 11:00 AM. He didn't mean to sleep in so late, but with everything that had happened last night, he felt more exhausted than he had been in quite a while. Between his angry display of emotions at the ice rink, and his late night conversation with Elsa, there was certainly a lot that happened.

Elsa.

As soon as he thought her name, Adam immediately plopped back down in his bed. My god, what on earth was he thinking? He went from struggling to even say her name when she was around to having a rather personal conversation. It was really quite ridiculous how quick the transition was.

And yet, the funny thing was that Adam hadn't felt even remotely nervous in the second part of that little chat. In fact, it was almost like they were... friends. Just the thought brought a smile to Adam's face. yes sir, life in Arendelle just took another crazy turn.

During all of this reminiscing, however, Adam realized he had practice in an hour. Normally, he would be thrilled with this, but he really wasn't. The drain of essentially being left out was really starting to take its toll on him. Groaning, he dragged himself out of bed.

* * *

About 45 minutes later, Adam, with all of his equipment ready to go in his bag, was dropped off at the front gates of the school by his father. As he got out of the car, however, he heard his dad trying to tell him something. Turning back for a moment, he let him know he was listening.

"Listen, I know things may seem hard right now, but if you keep your chin up, I'm sure your chance will come your way. You just have to keep on truckin', you know?" he said in the most reassuring voice he could.

Sighing to himself, Adam appreciated his dad's efforts, but they weren't really that effective, as it felt like he'd heard that a million times by now from Kristoff, Olaf, Sven, and even Elsa.

"Thanks, Dad," he said, giving a little smile. His father just nodded as he began to drive away.

Once again sighing to himself, Adam began to make his way to the locker room. Because they had a game later that day (a home game, at that), he hoped he may actually get to play, but he wasn't counting on it.

When he stepped into the locker room, nobody else was around. In addition to that, all of the jerseys missing from the lockers, meaning Adam was the last one to arrive. Shaking his head a little, he began to walk towards his stall when he noticed something.

All of the defensemen had their lockers right next to each other, meaning he and Kristoff had theirs in relatively close proximity. All of the lockers also had name tags, making it easier to identify who's stuff was who's. In the locker to Kristoff's right, however, the name tag slot was empty, and Adam was certain there was a name in there the last time he was in here. What was going on?

As he changed into his padding and slipped on his uniform, Adam headed out the entryway and into the arena, to join the rest of the team. Everyone was just skating laps around the ice, with Coach Quinn looking over something near the benches. Adam noticed Kristoff, Olaf, and Sven talking amongst each other as they skated. Stepping onto the ice, he quickly joined them.

"Hey guys, what's up?" he said as he began to approach them.

"Oh, hey. How's it going?" asked Kristoff in an unusually happy tone. Everyone in the group had been a little down for the past few days, so this was a little bit of a surprise.

"Uh, fine. You sound happy."

"Indeed I am. Well, happy for you," he said, while giving him a light nudge on the shoulder.

Adam's face immediately went red. Had he somehow heard about the conversation he and Elsa had last night? After all, although Kristoff had told them about how he had a crush on Anna, Adam had yet to do the same regarding Elsa.

"Why?" he asked a little shakily.

"It's great. You're going to get to play in the next game. Actually, in ALL of the upcoming games," Kristoff replied.

Adam's heart leapt, all of his nervousness disappearing in an instant. If this was true, he was beyond ecstatic at having the chance to FINALLY prove his skills. But still, he wondered why coach would have such a sudden change of heart.

"Why is coach just putting me in the lineup all of sudden?"

"Well, he kinda has to. Remember Bertil?"

"Bertil? Wasn't he one of the defenseman?" said Adam. As soon as he said this, he felt a little bad about realizing he didn't really know many of his teammates... although it's hard to connect with them when you don't play, admittedly.

"Yeah. Was. He quit after the last game. I'm not kidding," replied Kristoff.

Adam was a little stunned by this. "He QUIT? Just out of the blue? Is that even allowed?"

"Well, he said he was moving next week, so that's why. But he did also say he was sick of losing all the time. To be completely honest, I can't really blame him on that last part," said Kristoff.

"Still, it doesn't matter. Now we only have 6 defensemen on the roster. Coach has to play you, whether he wants to or not," Sven chimed in.

Adam grinned when he said this. It was true. Signups for the team ended last week, so nobody new could join the roster. Adam was here to stay.

"Well, I'm glad I'm gonna get to play, but it also feels weird, y'know? It's not like I really did anything to stand out; this spot is basically being handed to me," he said.

"Don't talk like that. You know you deserve to play. Besides, even if Bertil didn't quit the team, you'd still probably get to play anyways," replied Sven.

"Oh yeah? Why?" asked Adam, in a rather unconvinced tone.

"Well, after last night's game, we had a little talk with coach..."

* * *

 _ **Kristoff practically ripped off his jersey in frustration, giving a small growl in annoyance. Once again, the team lost. 5-3 this time, so they were a little closer, but still not good enough.**_

 _ **As Kristoff looked around the locker room, he could see... defeat? Or maybe disbelief. Either way, he could tell the feeling in the locker room was quickly turning from contentious to numbness. It was getting to the point where they didn't even care if they lost anymore.**_

 _ **Unlike last season, however, he knew there was a solution to their problems. And coach refused to use it.**_

 _ **Once he had taken off his pads and put on his sweatshirt, Kristoff walked over to Olaf, who was just staring straight at the wall; he had a hat trick, scoring all 3 of the team's goals tonight, and they still lost. Undeterred, Kristoff called his name, garnering his attention.**_

 _ **"Listen, I'm gonna go talk to coach about the team. More specifically, why the hell he doesn't let Adam play."**_

 ** _Nodding his head in agreement, Olaf responded, saying "I've been wondering that myself. We know he's a great defenseman, and we keep giving up 5, 6, however many goals a game. He'd be perfect for the team. I'll come too."_**

 ** _Nodding once in acknowledgement, both Olaf and Kristoff headed for the little office that Coach Quinn was in. It was time to talk some sense into him._**

 ** _Knocking on the door a few times, they heard him say "Come in!"_**

 ** _Entering the tiny office, they saw him sitting at his desk, writing on what appeared to be a lineup card. Looking up from his work, he saw for the first time who had entered his office._**

 ** _"What can I do for you?"_**

 ** _Kristoff wanted to speak politely, but his angry emotions due to his coach's stubbornness won him over. Slamming his hands on the surface of the desk, he leaned forward._**

 ** _"What can you do? In case you haven't noticed, the team is a goddam mess. Nobody, including myself at times, plays defense, nobody knows what the hell they're doing, and nobody except for me, your best forward, and your starting goalie seems to care anymore. But you know, there IS something that you could be doing, one that may actually win a few games, and that's playing a certain defenseman who's currently sitting at home instead of being right here in this locker room where he belongs."_**

 ** _Kristoff regretted the way he worded this rant as soon as he said it, but he couldn't help himself; he couldn't remember the last time he was this upset._**

 ** _Surprisingly, rather than shove the argument right back in his face, as the blond was expecting, Coach Quinn merely leaned back in his seat and handed what he had been writing on to the boy._**

 ** _"You see this? This is the lineup card for tomorrow's game. Look at the defensemen."_**

 ** _Kristoff did as he was told, glancing over who would be playing. The first thing he saw was Adam's name and number penciled into the lineup._**

 ** _"I was going to plug Adam into the lineup after tonight in any event, but now I've been forced to."_**

 ** _Olaf was curious at this. "What do you mean forced to?"_**

 ** _"Bertil informed me before the game that his family would be moving. Because of this, effective tomorrow, we only have 6 defensemen. Barring an injury, Adam will be in the lineup for the rest of the season," said Coach Quinn._**

 ** _As soon as coach finished speaking, Kristoff turned to leave. He got what he came for: Adam's place in the lineup._**

* * *

"So you actually sought him out to argue for my placement on the team?" asked Adam.

"Yeah. It's best for you and the team. Besides, what are friends for?" said Kristoff.

Adam was truly stunned by this. He obviously had a good friendship with his circle, but to go to the lengths they did, literally seeking out the coach and flat out tell him he's doing his job wrong, for _him_ , was something he never would have expected.

"You know... thanks. For everything." Adam smiled as he said this.

"No problem," replied Olaf. "But Sven, where were you during all of this? We tried to find you as well, but we couldn't."

"I was helping the zamboni crew, they were having a problem with getting it running," said Sven, completely serious.

Kristoff and Olaf gave him blank stares. Adam was laughing uncontrollably behind them.

"What? I like machines. Leave me alone," he said in a hurt voice, skating ahead of them.

Once he had regained composure and wiped the tears from his eyes, Adam said "Okay, so I do have a question. I think you explained this once, but I forgot. Why exactly is Coach Quinn, well, coach?"

Kristoff's eyes diverted to said person, who was looking over his notepad. "To be honest, the only reason he's still here is because the school can't find a replacement. I'm fairly certain they would love to drop him," said Kristoff. He then lowered his voice, saying "Don't talk about this out loud, but I'm fairly certain most of the players, including myself, would also like to see someone else at the helm."

Adam was a little surprised by this, as he assumed that the majority of the team liked the coach (although he really couldn't stay the same. He was still sore from being held out of the lineup).

"Why is that?" he asked.

"We feel like we're being held back. The simple fact is he's in over his head. He's been coaching for more than 20 years, and he's been coach here for the last 10, so it's been a good run, but if you want my opinion, it's time for someone else to take charge," Kristoff replied.

Adam nodded in understanding. This was his first year here, so he didn't exactly know the specifics of how things have been around here, but judging from what Kristoff was saying, it didn't sound like Coach Quinn was exactly respected by the team.

After a minute of two of quietly skating around the ice, the familiar sound of the whistle broke up the monotony. Adam, Kristoff, Olaf, and Sven (who had rejoined the group) skated to center ice, to hear what coach had to say, whether they wanted to or not.

Once everyone was gathered, Coach Quinn began to speak:

"Alright, team, listen up. In case a few of you didn't hear, Bertil has informed me that he is moving next week, so effective today, he is no longer a member of the team."

Nobody said anything, but based on the facial expressions of his teammates, it seemed to Adam that not many people really cared that this Bertil was leaving. Adam couldn't really speak for the kid, as he didn't even know anything about him except for his name. Well, it didn't matter anymore.

Coach Quinn continued. "Now, what this means for the team is that Adam over here will be our newest addition to the defensive core. I'm sure all of you have seen him play in our practices and such, so I don't expect a difficult transition period."

When coach mentioned his name, many sets of eyes turned to the defenseman wearing number 4. Adam shrank a little in their gazes; he couldn't really say he knew his teammates all that well, considering he had almost no opportunity to form chemistry with them, outside of practices.

Once a few moments passed, Coach Quinn started again. "Well then, to be honest, that's all I really brought you here for. We've got a game later tonight, at 7. You can just free skate or go home or whatever. Remember to report back here by 6:15."

Coach Quinn skated off to the sidelines, while everyone dispersed from center ice. Most people left the ice and headed to the lockers to change, clearly not desiring to stick around. Adam decided to join the players skating off the ice; he would return a little early before the game. He didn't want to unnecessarily expend energy by practicing well before the game was set to begin.

As Adam skated off the ice and into the locker room, he went straight for his locker stall. Once he put on his sweatshirt after removing all of his equipment, he made his way to the exit. Knowing that he would be returning later that day, he decided to leave his hockey bag behind.

As soon as Adam stepped outside the building and into the school's parking lot, however, he remembered that he didn't have a ride. Shaking his head and smiling a little, he took his phone out of his pocket and dialed his father.

After a few rings, he heard his dad pick up on the other end. "Hello?"

"Hi Dad, it's me. Come pick me up."

"Now? It's only ben 15 minutes since I dropped you off!" he replied, in disbelief.

"Yeah, I know. Practice is over. Come get me," said Adam.

Adam heard his father exhale loudly on the other end. "Fine. I'm coming. See you in a few minutes."

"Thanks. Bye," said Adam as he hung up.

Now that he had nothing better to do, Adam went over to a nearby bench and sat down, patiently awaiting the arrival of his dad. Absentmindedly scanning the parking lot, Adam was about to plug into his music when he noticed something a little unusual.

A man was walking into one of the side doors of the school. He was holding a briefcase, and he was dressed in a rather expensive looking suit, as if he was on his way to a job interview. He went into the school and out of sight.

Shrugging to himself, Adam put his earphones in and drowned out everything else.

* * *

The time was 6:00 PM when Adam pedaled his way up to the front doors of the school for the second time that day. He would have preferred a ride, but both of his parents had to work that night, which also meant that neither would be on hand for his first game. This made Adam a little sad, but he was okay with it nonetheless; it meant that there was nothing to distract him from the game.

Once he entered the school building, Adam made his way right to the arena. Arriving at the familiar player's entrance to the locker room, he made his way inside.

Most people were already there, either dressing for the game or doing their pre game rituals and what not. Neither Kristoff, Olaf, nor Sven had arrived yet, though, so Adam made his way right to his locker. Breathing a little sigh of relief once he saw his bag was still there with everything inside, he quickly changed into his game day equipment. As he put on the jersey, however, he once again felt that same feeling of pride he did the first time he had put it on. It was just beginning to sink in that this was his first game of the season. He couldn't wait.

Once he was fully dressed for the game, Adam began his own pre game ritual. What exactly was this exciting, pulse pounding activity that hyped him up for the game?

He sat down in his locker and stared straight ahead. More specifically, at the door. He would always do this in Minnesota up until the coach addressed the team before they took the ice. It let him clear his mind.

A few minutes after this commenced, Sven and Olaf walked into the locker room, laughing about something. Both of them stopped when they saw Adam's completely stoic expression staring right at them. His eyes were cold and unforgiving.

Sven nervously shuffled away to his locker. As for the other boy, after snapping out of his petrification, Olaf said "Uh... hey, Adam."

Adam didn't make a sound, instead continuing to stare at the door. Olaf followed in Sven's footsteps.

After another minute or two, Kristoff entered the locker room, apparently having been out on the surface of the ice. He greeted Adam when he saw that he had arrived, but Adam said nothing. After unsuccessfully trying to get his attention, Kristoff sighed and walked over to where Olaf and Sven were talking, rather quietly at that.

"What's up with him?" asked Kristoff as he approached them.

"I'm not sure. He hasn't said anything since we got here," replied Sven. He sounded almost scared.

Nearly 10 more minutes of this passed. By now, everyone was fully dressed for the game, and up and about in the locker room. Everyone except for Adam. He had only blinked about 7 times. Olaf counted.

Finally, Coach Quinn emerged from his little office. Once he cleared his throat, Adam shook his head and looked around. Olaf, Sven, and Kristoff breathed a sigh of relief.

"Alright, listen up! We've got a big game tonight. I know we aren't off to an ideal start, but there's no time like the present to turn things around! We'll be starting with the first lines today. Okay, let's hit the ice!"

Everyone got lined up and prepared to head out of the locker room. Adam walked over to Kristoff, Olaf, and Sven, but they weren't nearly as amicable as they usually were.

Adam was a little confused. "What's wrong with you guys?"

"Why were you acting so strangely a little while ago?" asked Sven.

It took Adam a few moments to realize he was referring to his pre game ritual. "Oh, you mean why I wasn't talking? That's my pre game ritual. I've done it for as long as I can remember, sorry I didn't tell you about it earlier."

Kristoff grinned a little at this. "Okay. We were just making sure you weren't mad at us or something."

Adam also grinned as he bumped Kristoff on the shoulder. "Why would I be mad at you guys? It's because of you I'm actually playing today."

"No, it's because one of the defensemen quit."

"Still, you argued for me. You get the idea," said Adam. "Alright, here we go boys."

The team started filing out onto the ice. Adam, Kristoff, Olaf, and Sven were in the back of the line, meaning they would be the last ones out of the lockers.

Finally, the 4 boys stepped out into the arena for the first time. For Kristoff, Sven, and Olaf, this was something they had already done a few times, but it was a new experience for Adam. Looking around the crowd, however, he was disappointed to see there were only about 30% of the stands had people in them. This was to be expected, but it was a little disheartening to see first hand just how little the community valued hockey. Still, none of that mattered now. The only thing that was important was the game.

As the starting lineups were blasted throughout the arena by the PA announcer (who sounded like a student), Adam and the rest of the team was skating a few laps in their end of the ice, while the visitors were doing the same on the other side. Once that was done, everyone but the starting lines of the game headed for the benches.

As Adam took a seat in the middle of the bench, he took a look at the ice. Obviously, he didn't know anybody on the other team, but the lineup for the Ice Harvesters consisted of Olaf and Hans at the winger positions, a center Adam identified as Niklas, and Kristoff, as well as another defenseman that Adam did not know the name of (he felt a little ashamed at this). Sven was the starting goalie, and Adam just saw tap both the goal posts with his stick. It appeared other people had pre game rituals as well.

Both the centermen got low to the ground, ready for the opening face-off. The ref approached in the middle of them, puck in hand. With the downward movement of his arm, the puck hit the ice, and both centermen scrapped for it. The game was on.

* * *

"C'mon, hurry up or we'll be late!"

In nearly every other situation imaginable, it would always be Anna that was full of excitement, and Elsa who was much more calm and level-headed. In the case of a hockey game, however, the roles were reversed, with Elsa being the one practically dragging Anna around, and this game was no different.

"Elsa, slow down, we'll be fine!"

"Yeah, but it'd be nice to get there before the opening face-off."

Rushing into the arena, they quickly took their seats. They arrived just in time, with everyone assembling at center ice for the opening face-off.

Elsa remained on her feet, observing the action down below for a solid 3 minutes before finally sitting down. Anna had remained in her seat the entire time, lightly giggling at her sister's antics. She knew how big of a hockey fan Elsa was, and this was the first game she had been able to get to this season. Anna wasn't as crazy for the sport, but she was perfectly fine with going to see the game anyways.

After a few minutes, Elsa's attention diverted to trying to recognize the players. She remembered a few of the opposing one's well (they had lost a game 9-2 against this team last season), and she also recognized a few of the faces on the Ice Harvester's bench. Although she didn't see him, there was one in particular she may have remembered well. He was in the process of climbing over the boards and onto the ice.

* * *

Adam had to move quickly, as he was not entering the ice during a stoppage of play, meaning that the game was still going as he was substituted on. Once he hit the ice, he surveyed the situation: the other team had the puck, and they were advancing up the ice. In other words, he needed to play defense. Perfect.

Skating backwards to stay in front of the attack, Adam recognized the formation the other team was using. A 3 on 3, the idea was that each forward passes it to each other before a shot is taken, to try and draw the defenders out of position. _"Yeah, like that'll work,"_ Adam thought.

As soon as the other team entered their offensive zone, the passing began. The center, who had been carrying the puck up until now, passed it to the right winger, who then in turn attempted to give the puck to the left winger. Unfortunately for him, the left winger was Adam's defensive assignment.

As soon as he intercepted the puck, Adam assumed that coach wanted a line change. After carrying the puck to center ice, he lightly flipped the puck into the other end. When he tried getting back to the bench, however, he heard Coach Quinn screaming at him to get back to the play. Turning towards the sounds of the action, Adam saw that coach was right.

Although he dumped the puck down the ice so he could get off for a line change, Adam had instead inadvertently made a perfect pass to Hans, who had been skating as fast as he could up the left side of the ice. Now all of the forwards and the other defenseman were swarming the goal crease, trying to stuff the puck into the net for a goal. Realizing his mistake, Adam hustled over to the offensive zone to (try) to assist his team.

As soon as he arrived back at the play, the puck squirted on back, straight to him. Adam was in the clear for a shot.

He raised his stick, ready to blast a rocket. Elsa got to her feet in the audience.

Everyone on the other team, including the goalie, expected a shot, as everyone attempted to position themselves to block it. But Adam had fooled them all.

He instead made a pass right to Hans. It was so simple, even he was able to do it. Hans had a wide open net.

1-0.

As Adam joined his teammates in the embrace after the goal, he heard compliments flying everywhere on the great plays that were made leading up the goal, including the pass Adam made. Deciding to join in, Adam summed it up with "Alright boys, let's go, let's make it two!"

Adam had a humongous grin on his face. Not only had he gotten the primary assist on the goal, but it put the team up 1-0 in the game. He didn't even care that he had fed it to Hans for the score, because by that point, they were all teammates. it didn't matter who scored the goals. If they scored at all, he was happy.

After a few more seconds, the Ice Harvesters broke off their celebration and headed for the bench. Now it was time for a line change. The fact that Adam wasn't on the ice anymore did nothing to dampen his enthusiasm, though.

* * *

After Elsa had stopped cheering, she took a deep breath, due to oxygen being a secondary concern for a few moments there. Even if it was Hans who scored the goal, it was still a nice goal nonetheless, and it put the home crew up 1 to nothing. It was only after play had started again, however, that she realized she had no idea who it was that made that great pass.

Once again sitting in her seat, Elsa turned to her sister, who was smiling, but not nearly as enthused as the blonde. "Hey, did you recognize who it was who made that pass? I think he wears number 4."

Anna turned her gaze from the ice to her sister. "Him? His face looks familiar, I fairly sure he's in my 2nd hour class with Mr. Oaken. I think his name's Adam."

Elsa was shocked. Adam, whom she had such a personal conversation with just yesterday, on this very ice surface no less? She knew the reason he was at the ice rink yesterday in the first place was because the coach of the hockey team wouldn't let him play, but that apparently had changed, seeing how he was down there with his teammates.

In a way, she felt almost guilty. He had been so nice to her during their little skating session, and she didn't even recognize him down there on the ice, at least not right away. While it was true she missed the lineups because they arrived late because Anna took her time getting ready (something she almost never did), that was no excuse.

 _"Well, I do see him during 3rd hour. I'll talk to him then."_

* * *

As the horn for the 1st intermission sounded, all the players on both benches headed into their respective locker rooms. Adam couldn't speak from experience because this was his first game with the team, but everyone seemed excited, rather than depressed. The reason was simple: they weren't buried in a mountain of goals. On the contrary, they were actually WINNING.

Once everyone was gathered in the locker room, Adam headed over to Olaf, Sven and Kristoff. He was immediately met with an avalanche of compliments.

"Hey, nice pass!"

"Where'd you learn to do that?"

"I'll try to keep them from scoring, I swear."

"Guys, calm down. It was a nice play that got us on the board, but it probably won't be enough. We need to score another," said Adam through the pandemonium, trying to inject rationality into their talk.

After pausing for a moment, Kristoff was the first to speak up again.

"You're right, one's not enough. It's just that we haven't had a lead at any point this season, so we're a little excited."

"That's fine, but keep it in check. Remember, there are 2 more periods to play," replied Adam.

Once that topic of conversation had been exhausted, everyone in the group went to their respective locker stalls. Adam grabbed a towel and, after removing his helmet, dried his face. Out of the corner of his eye, he glanced at the clock: it was a timer counting down from 60 seconds, meaning they had one minute before they went out for the 2nd period.

As that minute expired, everyone headed out of the locker room. Once the starting lineups were again out on the ice, the centermen gathered at center ice. With the drop of the puck, the 2nd period began.

* * *

As the 2nd period began, the first thing Anna noticed was one of the Ice Harvesters out on the ice. Wearing the number 43, he was apparently a defenseman, considering he had started that face-off behind the forwards. The reason he stood out so much was because he was gigantic. She couldn't exactly put her finger on who it was.

After taking a sip from her Super Fantastic Ultra Majestic Mega Gulp Soda (the signature item offered at the arena), Anna tapped her sister on the shoulder. Up until that point, she had been paying close attention to the game, so she only acknowledged with an unidentifiable noise that bordered between a "Hm?" and a grunt. Interesting.

"Hey, who's that down on the ice?" she asked.

"Who?"

"Number 43, for the Ice Harvesters."

Elsa squinted a little, trying to focus in on his face.

"I'm not sure. Why?"

"Nothing. Just curious," said Anna, taking another sip from the SFUMMGS. She honestly had no idea why she was so interested in who that kid was, but something about him simply caught her eye. She would have to investigate further to find out who he was.

* * *

Kristoff climbed over the boards and into the bench area, clearly winded after that particularly long shift. Taking a seat next to Adam, who happened to be at the end of the bench, he lightly banged his stick against the boards he had just ascended over.

"Did you not see that? That guy hit me in the back, right between the 4 and the 3, when I didn't even have the puck. That should've been an interference call."

"I agree, but the ref didn't see it. We just gotta get over it an..." Adam didn't have time to finish, as an extremely loud feminine cheer interrupted their conversation, followed by loud cheers from other people throughout the arena. The Ice Harvesters had again scored, making the game 2-0.

"Yes! Alright, that's the way!" said Adam from the bench. He didn't see who scored, but it appeared to be Dimitri, from the Green Line. That line remained out there for the next shift, as the puck dropped onto the ice yet again.

* * *

As the 2nd period came to a close, the score still stood at 2-0. During the intermission, unlike the last one, everyone was quiet; the tension in the air felt like it could be cut with a knife. There was only one more period to go until the end of the game, their first win of the season. If nobody else scored, they won. If the other team scored only once, they won. They were in a good position.

As the timer ticked off its last seconds, everyone once again headed out into the arena for the 3rd period of the game. Once again, the opening line-ups were out there to take the face off. As the puck dropped, the clock started ticking down from 20:00, officially marking the beginning of the final frame.

Adam watched the play intensely. Niklas had lost the face-off, meaning the other team had first possession in the 3rd period. Even worse, after playing a little keep away in their own zone, they somehow caught the defense sleeping, giving them an odd man situation. With numerical superiority, they executed a beautiful passing play, ending with a wrist shot that Sven didn't have a prayer at stopping.

Adam audibly swore as the visitor's made the score 2-1. It wasn't even a minute in, and the once secure lead was suddenly cut in half. He only hoped this wouldn't rattle the confidence of the team.

As he looked down the bench, he was dismayed to see this was exactly what happened. Everyone looked nervous, the intense atmosphere replaced with one of worry.

Adam couldn't just stand by and watch. "C'mon guys, let's keep our chins up! They got one on us, so what? We'll just give it right back!" A few people looked in his direction, and he also saw a few nods. Adam hoped this would be enough to settle the bench.

Evidently, it was. The team got over their nerves, and started playing solid defense. Admittedly, they weren't generating much offense, but the exact same thing could be said about other team as well.

Until there were about 6 minutes left in the period.

As the other team took possession, they began to skate up the ice. Adam eyed them like a hawk, scouting for a familiar pattern, a clue for what offensive strategy they were going to use. To his disappointment, he found nothing. He was going to have to wing it.

As the left winger attempted to get close to the net, Adam stayed in front of him the whole time, providing him no clear lane to shoot or drive closer to the goal. Realizing there was nowhere to go, he instead passed it back to the defenseman. With a great windup, he fired a shot from the blue line.

It somehow found its way into the net.

Although Adam didn't tell the team this, as he didn't want to get them upset and lose their focus even more, Adam felt the puck hit his shin guard before it got to the goal. He had tried to block the shot, but he instead accidentally deflected it into his own net. Once again, Sven had no chance at making the save.

Adam was furious with himself.

As he skated to the bench, he glanced up at the scoreboard. It said 2-2. Not 2-0. Not even 2-1. 2-2.

 _"Well then, it's crunch time, isn't it?"_

* * *

"SHIT!"

Elsa yelled this rather loudly. As soon as she said it, she immediately placed a hand over her mouth. She never liked to swear, but it slipped out.

To be fair, it was a rather upsetting moment. The other team had scored. What was once a victory was now completely uncertain. And to add insult to injury, she was fairly certain the puck deflected off of Adam. No matter what, however, it was a tie game.

"Elsa, keep it down!" said Anna, trying to deflect the stares that were aimed in their direction.

"Sorry, it slipped off my tongue. It doesn't change the fact that they scored, though."

"Well, look at the positives. We're being set up for a fantastic finish."

Elsa just looked down to the Ice Harvester's bench. The first thing she laid eyes on was Adam yelling the same thing she had just said a moment ago.

* * *

There was one minute left in the period. Adam hadn't played since that goal was scored by the other team.

Kristoff arrived back at the bench, out of breath; very understandable, considering he had essentially been playing Adam's minutes. Still, he was clearly too exhausted to continue.

"Adam! Get out there!" yelled Coach Quinn.

Adam climbed over the boards and onto the ice. He was ready for redemption.

As he took to the ice, he saw Hans gain possession of the puck. Noticing Adam was somewhat open, he fired a pass up to him.

Taking the puck into the offensive zone, Adam saw it was a 1 on 1, with only one defenseman being back to stop him. The others were coming up fast, so he had to be quick. There was also the clock to worry about; he couldn't see how much time was left, but he assumed there was only a few seconds.

Adam brought the puck from his forehand to his backhand, trying to draw the defender out of position a little. Instead, the best possible result occurred: he quite literally tripped on his own skates. It was now Adam against the goalie.

Bringing the puck to his forehand, Adam fired a moonbeam of a shot. Elsa got to her feet, ready to celebrate a goal.

It rang off the post.

A big groan carried throughout the small crowd. Everyone was hoping he'd be able to put it away.

By the time anyone was able to get to the rebound, the horn sounded, signaling the end of regulation. Because the score was tied, there was only one way to settle things: sudden death overtime.

Unlike normal periods, overtime worked a little differently. The first change was that there wasn't an intermission between the 3rd period and overtime. The 2nd change was that rather than being 20 minutes, OT only lasted 10. Because it was sudden death, the next goal would win the game. If nobody scored in those 10 minutes, the game would be called a tie. This rarely happened, however, because only four players on each team and the goalies were allowed. Because there was so much more room to skate and shoot, goals were often scored quickly.

Thus, the team's once again assembled for a face-off. Adam remained on the ice, but he was surprised to see Coach Quinn put Kristoff out there with him as well. Adam grinned a little at this, as this was the first time during the whole game he would be playing on the ice the same time as the blond. Hans and Olaf were the forwards, so the team was set to go.

As the puck dropped, Hans won the face-off, and the puck went right to Adam. Knowing Kristoff was far more offensively sound, he immediately passed it to the taller boy, who then proceeded to snap it up Olaf. Entering the offensive zone without missing a beat, Olaf immediately fired a wrist shot, which the goalie made a nice save on. As the rebound trickled to the corner, Adam heard a rather familiar voice give a cheer of confidence for the home team. He wondered for a split second who it could have belonged to, but he immediately shook that thought out of this head; more important things were happening.

As the puck settled down, both Hans, Kristoff, and two of the opposing players got in a scrum for the puck. Surprisingly, Kristoff was the winner, as he was able to escape from the crowd with possession. Winding up for a slapshot, Adam skated a little closer to the goal crease, ready to collect the rebound.

There wasn't one. It found its way into the net.

Neither Kristoff nor Adam could believe it. It was so perfectly placed, it sailed into the top right corner, the only spot the goalie didn't have covered. One might have called it a rather lucky goal, as it was unlikely Kristoff meant to put it in that exact spot, but it didn't matter. A goal was a goal.

The first guy over to Kristoff was Adam, who immediately embraced the big lug. Hans and Olaf weren't far behind, as the rest of the team, including Sven, who had his hands raised in victory, poured onto the ice, ready to join in the celebration.

While Kristoff was being mobbed by his teammates, Adam was able to escape the fast growing crowd. After giving the biggest fist bump imaginable to Sven, he briefly looked up at the audience.

He saw a few people cheering and such, but the thing that caught his eye was Elsa, clapping frantically and yelling something. Adam's eyes went wide.

 _"She was here? The whole time?"_

After coming to this realization, Adam smiled a little bit.

 _"Well, she said she liked hockey. It makes sense."_

He also noticed Anna sitting to her left. She was also trying to clap, but was having a hard time doing to due to the enormous soda sitting on her lap.

 _"Huh. Well, I'm definitely glad Kristoff didn't notice. Otherwise he probably would've been distracted and not scored or something. Then again, you could say the same thing about me, I guess... even though I only got an assist instead of a goal. Wait, what?"_

None of that was really important right now. The main thing was that they won.

After a few more minutes, everyone began to disperse, making their way to the locker room with big smiles all around.

Once everyone had filed in, Coach Quinn clapped his hands a few times. It took a couple of minutes, but he got everyone's attention.

"Alright, good win guys, I liked the play I saw, great effort, good hustle, an excellent all around game. We go on the road for the next one, so be sure to report here on Wednesday, 5:00 PM. Good job, everyone."

All the players cheered after he finished, still elated about the win.

After changing out of his jersey and padding and into his normal clothes, Adam caught up with the group.

"Well, look who's the hero," he said jokingly, lightly slugging Kristoff on the arm.

"Hey, we both contributed to the win. Actually, scratch that, we all did," said Kristoff, a gigantic grin on his face.

For the next 20 minutes, Adam, Kristoff, Olaf, and Sven all chatted about the game, how they did on an individual scale, what they could improve on, that sort of thing. After a little while, Adam looked at the clock on his phone.

"Shoot, it's getting late. Listen, I gotta go, I'll see you all at school tomorrow."

"Alright, see ya," said Kristoff, with similar goodbyes coming from Sven and Olaf.

Adam exited the front doors of the school and stepped out onto the school's parking lot. Once he was outside, he removed the chain locking the bike to the bike rack. He smiled again as he thought about how the game went. He still wasn't happy about how he was at least partially responsible for allowing the tying goal, but it was okay because they won. Still, he didn't want to do that again in the future.

As he got on his bike and started pedaling, hockey bag slung on his shoulder, however, his thoughts turned back to Elsa. Although he had no idea she was even at the game until the immediate post game celebration, he was still surprised nonetheless. It was true that she said she was a huge hockey fan, but he didn't exactly expect her to show up to tonight's game.

 _"I just hope she didn't see how I deflected that puck into our own net."_

* * *

As Anna and Elsa walked out of the school, that infernal slurping sound you get from a nearly empty soda cup echoed throughout. Elsa tried her best to ignore it, but it got to the point where she couldn't take it anymore.

"ANNA! Would you stop that!"

"Sorry! Here, I'll throw the SFUMMGS away, see?" she said as she threw the enormous container into a nearby recycle bin. "There. You happy?"

Elsa gave a sarcastic smile. "Very." Anna just frowned and looked away.

As the fake grin disappeared from her face, Elsa heard what appeared to be a bicycle. Upon looking in the direction the noise was coming from, she saw some kid with a hockey bag peddling away. It was only when she was about to look away that she recognized who it was.

 _"Well, look who it is. I'll be sure to bring up that 'goal' he basically scored for the other team the next time I see him,"_ she thought, giggling to herself a little.

Anna looked at her sister like she was crazy.

* * *

 **I think that's a good place to end this chapter. So now Elsa's gonna turn into a big, evil bully towards Adam because he made one little mistake on defense. XD**

 **Well, this was the first extended hockey scene of the story, and I'd like to think I did a pretty good job. I know not everyone here is a hockey fan (hopefully this will change), but I tried my best to make it accessible to everyone.**

 **When I first started this story, I decided to only use Frozen characters and OC's, and now is when it comes back to bite me a little bit. There simply aren't very many characters in Frozen that would work on the team, so there are definitely going to be some OC players that are only sparingly mentioned (this also means there won't be characters from other movies playing on other teams, either). This shouldn't be too big of a problem, but I figured I'd throw it in this AN anyways.**

 **I made it possible for there to be ties in the hockey games because I don't like the shootout. I know the NHL doesn't have ties, they use the shootout, blah blah blah. I'm just not a fan of the shootout, considering it's essentially a glorified skills contest. Sorry if you were really hoping for one or something, lol.**

 **I know I didn't give the other team a name. I only have a very limited stock of original teams, so I need to pick and choose which games they're necessary in. Forgive me, haha.**

 **Well, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. That's about it from me.**

 **Have a nice day.**


	7. Chapter 7

**How's everybody's day (or night) going, and welcome back to Cold Defense.**

 **To be honest, I can't really think of anything to put in this AN, other than this chapter is definitely a little shorter than the previous few, hope you don't mind, and that I purposely made the very beginning similar to the beginning of chapter 2. I'm not entirely sure why, it just felt right.**

 **Well, that's it from me for now. On with the story.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Frozen. Never have, never will.**

Present

 _"Thoughts"_

 **Author's Note**

 ** _Flashback_ (not used in this chapter)**

* * *

"Adam, wake up. It's time to rise and shine, you have school."

Adam's father had gone into his son's bedroom to give him the daily wake-up call, as it was a Monday, which meant it was back to school. As he went to shake him awake, however, he was surprised by his son suddenly jumping out of bed.

"I know, Dad, I'm going."

Smiling a little at his son's willingness to get ready, rather than the usual attempts to stay in bed for as long as possible, Patrick left the room. Adam followed close behind, although his destination was the shower, rather than downstairs.

Once he arrived at the now familiar bathroom (actually, everything in the house was familiar by now), Adam changed out of his pajamas and got into the shower. As he turned on the water, allowing the warmth to overtake him, he fondly reminisced on the event's of last night's hockey game. Sure, he did allow that humiliating own goal (hopefully one that nobody saw) when the puck bounced off his padding and redirected into the net, but he played a very good game otherwise Even though it was the first time he had seen real game action in months, he felt he did a pretty good job.

Of course, he couldn't just think about the game without also thinking of Elsa, who just HAPPENED to be there on the day he was playing. Adam was completely certain it was a coincidence, as even he didn't know he would be playing until a few hours before the first puck drop, but it was certainly what could be called a stroke of luck nonetheless.

Once he turned off the shower, Adam stepped out onto the bathroom rug and quickly dried off; he had woken up just a little bit later than usual, so he had to hurry. Once he was dry, he ran to his room, still wrapped in towels, to change into the outfit he laid out before he went to bed: once again, a simple t-shirt, athletic shorts, and running shoes. He basically wore this almost every day, although the incoming winter temperatures would force him to change things up soon.

Once he made his way downstairs, Adam was hoping to see some sort of breakfast laid out on the counter that he could quickly devour, but there was no such luxury. Groaning a little, although more playfully than genuine disappointment, he figured he might as well not waste any time.

"Mom, let's go."

"Alright, honey, let's go then."

"That's what I said."

"I know."

"Enough of this conversation."

With both mother and son giving a small laugh at their little argument, the two of them headed out to the car parked out front; Adam's dad would normally wish him a good day at school, but he didn't seem to be in the kitchen.

As Adam got into the passenger side, his mother started the car, thus beginning the now familiar trek to the now familiar school.

As they drove to the school, not much was said on the way there. Aside from an occasional comment on something unusual on the side of the road or a simple question requiring a one word answer, conversation was at a minimum. Sighing a little bit, Melissa decided to break up the monotony.

"So, honey, how do you like the school so far?"

Adam looked away from the window and towards his mother, who kept her eyes on the road; he had been asked this question a billion times by both of his parents.

"Mom, I told you, it's fine, and I'm not just saying that. You've asked this a bi... no, trillion times."

"Well, sorry for being curious. And I was just trying to start a little conversation with you," she replied.

"Well, sorry. I'm tired, that's why I'm not really talking."

Adam's mother didn't respond, leading him to believe she was fine with his answer. Besides, they would be arriving at the school momentarily, so it wasn't like there was a lot of time.

As they pulled up to the curb, Adam got out of the car. As he was about to shut the door, he looked back and said "You'll be picking me up after school, right?"

"No, your father will, I'll be at work," his mother responded.

"Okay, fair enough. Bye," said Adam as he shut the car door and turned to the entrance of the school.

"Bye, sweetie, have a good day at school," said Melissa as she started to pull away from the school and back onto the road.

Entering the office which also served as the front entrance to the school, Adam passed by the attendance desk; he no longer needed to provide them with his ID number, thankfully. Once he passed through the room and into the hallway, he made his way to Mrs. Fredriksen's class.

Once he made it to to classroom, Adam went inside and looked around; aside from the teacher, he was the first one here. Shrugging to himself, Adam went to take his seat in the back of the room. Although Mrs. Fredriksen was a nice teacher, in addition to having Kristoff, Olaf, AND Sven in the class, their assigned seating and no-nonsense approach meant that classes were usually pretty boring.

After a minute or two, a few others started filing in, including Adam's group of friends. Nobody really felt like talking, however; it was early in the morning, and everyone was a little out of it (especially Adam and co., considering they had a game just yesterday). It wasn't until 2nd hour where things began to perk up a little bit, with Mr. Oaken's antics usually snapping everyone fully awake.

After a couple more minutes of near complete silence, the bell rang, indicating the beginning of class. As was the norm, Mrs. Fredriksen stood up and made her way to the front of the class.

"Good morning, everyone, let's get right into it. Today we'll be doing..."

For what felt like forever, Mrs. Fredriksen continued with the relatively boring lesson. It seemed like everyone was even more drowsy than normal, considering there was almost no activity going on in the room aside from the teacher talking. Finally, the bell rang again.

As everyone began to file out of the room, Adam caught up with the gang.

"Wow, no homework from her for once. How about that?" said Kristoff just as Adam joined them.

"Yeah. Appreciate it, it'll be back tomorrow," replied Sven.

"Don't I know it," said Kristoff with a laugh.

Wanting to change the topic of conversation to last night's game, Adam decided to bring it up. "So, how about yesterday?"

This one little comment by itself was enough to bring smiles to the whole group.

"You know, I had the most wonderful dream last night. It was just me scoring that goal, over and over," said Kristoff, laughing.

"Well gee, you aren't getting full of yourself at all," said Olaf, laughing along with him.

"I was joking. But seriously, it's about time we won a game. We needed it."

"Absolutely. Things were starting to get out of hand, we needed to get the team back on track and we did," said Sven.

"It's nice to celebrate a win, but let's remember, we're still 2 games under .500. Let's go get a few more," said Adam.

When Adam finished that statement, he looked over the faces of Kristoff, Sven, and Olaf to make sure they registered his advice. He was surprised to see Kristoff, however, looking back at him with what almost appeared to be... admiration? Whatever it was, it was definitely unexpected.

"Adam, were you the captain of your last hockey team?" he asked.

To say this question caught Adam off guard would be quite the understatement. He almost never thought of himself as a leader.

"No, not even an alternate captain. Why?"

"It just seems like you have good leadership qualities. You did help calm the team down yesterday when we gave up that goal, after all," replied the blond.

Adam was very surprised, but appreciative of these comments. "Well gee, thanks. But now I have to know, just who IS the captain of the team?"

"We haven't had a captain in years. Right now, nobody holds the position," said Sven.

Adam had guessed this was the case. The captain always wore a C on the front of their jersey, with the alternate captains (there are usually 2 of them) wearing the A's. Adam had not seen anyone wearing these letters on their jerseys, however, so it was a safe bet to assume nobody had a real position of leadership, aside from coach.

Just as they wrapped up that topic of conversation, the group arrived at Mr. Oaken's class. Being the first to reach the door, Olaf pulled it open, with everyone else following him inside.

"Yoo-hoo! Have a good morning!" said Mr. Oaken, sitting behind his desk in the usual pose, with the tips of his fingers touching each other.

Sven laughed a little when he said this. Have a good morning? Something about that greeting didn't sound quite right. It was almost like he was saying goodbye. Or may he did mean to say hello, but he...

Nevertheless, Sven returned the friendly gesture. "Morning, Mr. O," he said, with a few mumbled hellos also coming from Adam, Kristoff, and Olaf.

A few more people entered the room as everyone took their seats. One of these people happened to be Anna, causing Kristoff to look down at the floor until she passed by his desk. This didn't go unobserved by Adam.

After talking with Sven for a few minutes, as he and Adam were put next to each other in the beginning of the year, the bell rang for the third time that day, signaling the beginning of class. Everyone immediately stopped talking when Mr. Oaken stood up; considering he was absolutely gigantic, it was impossible to miss.

"Yoo-hoo! Velcome. Today, I'm glad to announce a big group project. Groups of 3. I already picked."

This resulted in a huge groan of dismay from the class, but Adam was okay with it. If only 3 people were allowed, that meant someone from their circle would have to be left out if they were allowed to pick their groups, since they were 4 people in their "fellowship" or whatever you want to call it. Go figure.

Mr. Oaken continued. "I shall call your names. Whoever I call your name with, that's your group."

Adam was pondering all the different people he could share a group with. He was expecting to be with two people he didn't know, but there was always the chance of being with Kristoff, Olaf, Sven, or maybe even 2 out of the 3 of them if he was lucky. He also started running through different combinations that everyone else could be with.

 _"It would be pretty funny if Kristoff and Anna were in the same group,"_ Adam inwardly chuckled, for the second time that day.

 _"..."_

 _"Wait a second."_

"Okay, so the first group is Olaf, Sven, and Markus.

 _"Oh boy."_

"Ya, the second group is Hans, Mikael, and Johan."

" _You know, I'll bet a hundred dollars that he puts Kristoff and Anna in th-_ _"_

"Okee, the third group is... Adam, Kristoff, and Anna."

 _"..."_

Mr. Oaken read off a few more groups. Anna was the only one that heard them.

If you were to look around the room at the newly formed group's facial expressions, you would see three very different things. In the case of Anna, she had a look of not quite indifference, but she clearly didn't mind her new group. She was open to working with pretty much anyone.

Kristoff looked like he was sweating bullets.

Adam was trying his absolute hardest to contain his laughter at the sheer, excruciating, painful irony of the situation, at least in the case of his big blond friend.

He failed.

Just as everyone got up to convene with their groups, as Mr. Oaken had apparently finished listing the names, Adam burst out laughing. He tried to contain it, but it took him a few seconds, earning a few glances from his fellow classmates, including Sven and Olaf.

Anna, who had stood up with everyone else, walked over to Adam while he was just beginning to calm down. She didn't even bother to look in Kristoff's direction, probably because she didn't even know who he was.

"Hi, are you Adam?" she asked as she walked up in front of his desk.

After loudly exhaling and wiping a tear from his eye, Adam looked up at her.

"Yeah. I guess we're a group, then."

"Yeah, but where's the other one?"

Adam considered his next course of action for a moment. He didn't want to immediately throw Kristoff into the fire by basically calling him out in front of Anna and telling him to get over here and this and that, but he really had no choice.

"Kristoff? He's over there," he said while pointing to the blond sitting in the front row, the only person besides himself that was still in their seat and not in the back lab area. Kristoff hadn't moved a muscle since Mr. Oaken announced the names.

Anna stared at him for a second. Her mind instantly thought back to the hockey game. It struck her like lightning that he was the one who had scored the overtime goal, AND he was the kid she had asked her sister about, the one who wore number 43.

Still, he didn't seem to be moving.

"Is he okay?" she asked Adam.

Adam stared at his back for a second. "I'm sure he is. He might be sleeping or something."

Adam stood up as he said this, making his way to Kristoff. Whatever was going through the taller boy's mind, it caused him to completely fail to notice Adam walk up to him.

"Hey, c'mon," said Adam as he put his hand on Kristoff's shoulder. Kristoff's head instantly snapped to look at who had just made physical contact with him.

"Why me?" he whispered, quietly enough that only Adam could hear.

Adam didn't understand. "What do you mean, 'why me?'"

"Why did I have to be put in the same group as her? You know I'm too scared to even talk to her," he replied, still whispering.

Adam understood exactly what Kristoff was going through; after all, he was the one who was too scared to talk to Elsa not even a week ago. But then that little meeting at the ice rink happened, and he finally found it in him to speak to her, to hold a real conversation. And rather than the utter disaster Adam was expecting, everything actually turned out quite well...

When Adam thought about it, there were many similarities to that and what's happening with Kristoff now. Like Adam was, Kristoff's too shy to talk to his crush. And now, like Adam meeting Elsa at the ice rink, something is basically forcing he and Anna to interact. And just like himself, Adam was completely confident things would be alright for his friend.

"Come on, you'll be fine. Let's go," said Adam as he grabbed Kristoff's shirt, essentially forcing him to stand up. Anna looked on with mild amusement.

Once he had brought Kristoff to the desk, Adam spoke up. "Right, so here's Kristoff. Kristoff?"

Kristoff didn't say anything for a few seconds. Adam was about to speak up for him when he finally decided to say something.

"Uh... hi."

Anna giggled a little. "Hi."

A few moments of silence followed. Just before it hit the point of awkwardness, Adam spoke again.

"So... I'll go get the paper we need! Be back in a bit, toodles!"

Adam immediately shuffled off, leaving Anna and Kristoff by themselves. Kristoff was about to... actually, he wasn't sure what he was going to do, when Anna spoke up.

"Hey, do you play for the hockey team?"

Kristoff was surprised by the question. "Uh, yeah."

"What number do you wear?"

Now Kristoff was downright curious. Why was she asking him all of these questions about the team?

"...43. Why?"

"I was at the game yesterday. I saw you score the overtime goal, it was nice!" she said, in an excited tone.

Kristoff couldn't help but chuckle at her enthusiasm. "Thanks."

After that little exchange, Adam sneaked back up to the group, holding a piece of paper.

"Okay, so here's what we need for the project, mkay?" he said while handing the paper to Kristoff. Kristoff was about to read it when Anna snatched it out of his hands.

"Hey!"

"I'll read it aloud, don't worry," she said, scanning over the page at a frantic pace. Once again, Kristoff couldn't help but laugh a little.

"Okay, so it says here 'you vill,' yes he wrote it with a v, 'be vorking on a group project where you, ah blah blah blah, its due two weeks from now. Got it?"

Adam was about to complain about how she basically skipped over the entire paper, but much to his surprise, Kristoff beat him to it.

"Hey! You didn't actually read anything about the project," he said in what sounded like a jokingly angry tone.

"We'll wing it. C'mon let's get to work," said Anna, smiling a little as she led them to the back lab area.

Adam smiled as well, just a little on the outside, but a humongous grin on the inside. He was hoping Anna and Kristoff would kinda get off on the right foot, and that appeared to be very much the case so far.

Once they arrived at an empty table, Anna, Adam, and Kristoff took their seats. Anna spoke first:

"Okay, so basically, we have 10 unidentified chemicals. We need to determine which chemical is which by leaving them out in sunlight, in the cold, mixing them with other chemicals, all that stuff," said Anna.

"You know, you could've explained all that back there," said Kristoff, grinning a little.

"Yeah, but I didn't," said Anna, looking up and laughing a little. Adam couldn't help but laugh as well. Then, when both of them stopped, Kristoff decided to join in, just a little late. This set off a whole new chorus of laughter. And while all of this happened, a few people looked at them from afar, wondering what the heck could be so funny.

During all of this commotion, Adam was thinking about Kristoff, or, more specifically, how easily it appeared Kristoff had gotten over his shyness when it came to Anna. Sure, it took a little push, but now that he and Anna actually talked to each other a little bit, things were going fine, rather than the complete nuclear apocalypse Kristoff was probably expecting. It seemed to Adam that Kristoff had severely underestimated himself... which was also something he himself had probably done when it came to talking to Elsa.

Once they finally calmed down, the remainder of the time went smoothly, as they all worked hard on the project assigned to them. There was also plenty of conversation amongst them, with Anna and Kristoff in particular getting into the finer points of hockey; while probably not as fanatical as her sister, it appeared Anna was a big hockey fan as well.

Finally, when there were only a few minutes of class left, Anna took another look at the sheet.

"Hold on. It also says we need to type up the report as a group, as well as a data table and some other stuff."

"Are we allowed to do it in school?" asked Kristoff.

"I don't think so. I guess we'll have to meet afterwards," she replied.

"Well, I just moved in two months ago, and we haven't really set all that stuff up yet, so I'm not sure," said Adam.

"Yeah, and we don't have a computer. The stupid thing died last year, and we haven't bothered to replace it since everyone uses phones and stuff now," said Kristoff.

"Okay then, we'll meet at my place. Here's the address," she said, writing it down on two sticky notes that just happened to be nearby and handing each of them to Adam and Kristoff. "How about after school today?"

"Sure, there's no hockey practice today," said Kristoff.

"Okay, I'll just need to call my parents and tell the..."

 _"...Wait a minute."_

Adam inexplicably stopped in the middle of his sentence. A sudden thought rendered him paralyzed.

You see, Anna wasn't an only child. Anna had a sister. Anna's sister was named Elsa. So, by going to Anna's house to work on their group project, he was also going to Elsa's house, unless Elsa lived in some far away ice palace or whatever.

 _"Oh."_

Once this thought passed through his brain, Adam realized he had inexplicably stopped in the middle of his sentence.

"...m where I'll be going," said Adam, slower than when I began.

Anna noticed the little pause in his speech. "Are you okay? You kinda, like, spaced out for a second."

And he was still spaced out. It took him a moment to register Anna had asked him something, as he was still lost in the thought of his dramatic realization.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he finally decided to say.

"Okay then."

Luckily, the bell rang at that exact moment. Everyone quickly made their way out of the room at the same time, so there was a little bit of a traffic jam.

"Okay, so I'll see you there, right after school," said Anna to both Adam and Kristoff as they left the room.

"Got it," said Kristoff. Adam didn't say anything.

After walking out of the room, Adam continued to be lost in his thoughts until he walked right into a door. Mildly cursing to himself and making sure nobody saw it, he finally snapped out of his trance.

 _"I need to get it together. I'm going to their house to work on a project, not to visit Elsa or something... even if that's still the case whether I want it to be or not. Huh."_

After walking through the hallways for a minute, Adam reached his destination. Entering the door to Mr. Eriksson's room, Adam saw that nobody was inside, so he went to take one of the desks in the back. Unlike his other classes, there was no seating chart in this one, so it didn't really matter where he sat, as long as it wasn't the 'established' seat of someone else.

* * *

Elsa quickly made her way to Mr. Eriksson's class; she hadn't looked at a clock recently, but she assumed she was running a few minutes late, so she didn't have any time to waste. Once she reached the classroom, she opened the door and stepped inside. Apparently she had a very bad sense of time, because the only person in the room was... Adam.

Smiling to herself a little, she looked at him; his head was resting on his arms, and he looked completely out of it. He didn't even bother to see who had come into the room. She walked up to him.

"Hi."

Adam's head snapped up, obviously startled. Once he turned around and saw who it was, however, he slowed down. Then he became startled again.

"Uh... hi."

"You mind if I sit here?"

Adam certainly wasn't expecting her to ask if she could sit near him; to be completely honest, he was actually expecting another awkward day of no conversation.

"Yeah, go ahead."

"Thanks," she said, smiling a little. As she sat in the desk next to Adam's, she spoke up again:

"You know, I was at the hockey game yesterday."

Adam had already known this, but he decided to pretend like he was was surprised. "Oh, were you now?"

"Uh huh. That was a great goal you scored," she said, as a mischievous smile appeared on her face.

"I didn't score a goal, what are y..."

And then it hit him: she saw how that one goal deflected off of him and into their own net.

"That's a dirty trick."

Elsa just started laughing.

After around 45 seconds, Adam was starting to get a little annoyed.

"Hey, why are you being so mean?" he asked. He wasn't sure whether she was being serious or not, but he sincerely hoped she wasn't.

"Relax, I was only joking," she said as her laughter slowed.

"Okay, thanks for the confirmation," said Adam in a rather sarcastic tone. He then proceeded to laugh a little himself, although it was only a little chuckle, rather than the full fledged laughter Elsa was doing just a second ago.

After a moment or two of silence, Elsa spoke up again:

"So, that coach finally let you play."

Adam nodded his head. "Yeah, it's about time. Although the only reason he did let me is because one of the other defensemen moved. Now he has to let me play, whether he wants to or not," said Adam.

"Well, I'm glad the opportunity is coming your way," she said while smiling a little at him. It was clear she meant it.

Adam was suddenly a little hesitant to make eye contact. "Uh, thanks."

Once that topic ran dry, Adam quickly tried to think of something else to talk about. He was tempted to tell her he would be going to her house to work with Anna and Kristoff on their group project, but something in his brain held him back. He went with the second best choice: the book.

"So, what book have we got today?" he asked, putting extra emphasis on the 'what' and saying it in an absurd accent.

Elsa giggled a little. "Actually, I didn't bring a book today. I forgot."

"Oh. Well, I could lend you my... actually, I don't have a book with me. Sorry," he said in a sheepish tone. He was legitimately going to offer her a book, but reality had other plans.

Elsa once again gave a small laugh at his silliness. "Oh well, that's okay."

"If it counts for anything, I recently read a great story online," he said, trying to revive the conversation. _Now_ he was telling the truth; he did recently read a nice story, on some website called... FictionPress? No, that wasn't quite it, although the word 'fiction' was in the title.

"Oh yeah? Where?"

"It was on some website called FanFiction," he replied, remembering just in time.

"FanFiction? Oh, isn't that the place where only about 20% of the stories are actually readable?" said Elsa.

"No, that's a myth. The actual number is more like 70-80%. In some categories."

For the next few minutes, Adam and Elsa had quite the back and forth debate about online stories. Adam was convinced HE had convinced Elsa that fan fiction was worth giving a shot (she said she hadn't really read it before), but she was probably going to stick to actually published books. They were just about to start tearing into movies next when the bell rang, cutting their chat short.

Reluctantly, both of them turned away from each other and looked forward. They were having fun in their 'argument'.

Once he had the stares of everyone in the room, Mr. Eriksson cleared his throat.

"Alright, hi everyone. All I've really got for you today is this partner activity, so let me just pass that out."

Reaching across his desk, Mr. Eriksson grabbed a big stack of papers and started handing them out. As he did so, he piped in with another comment:

"Oh, and you can pick your partner for this one."

Adan immediately glanced over to his right, although he was trying his best not to make it obvious. To his relief, Elsa was doing the same thing. Once he realized this, he got her attention by whispering her name.

"Hey, you wanna work together?"

She smiled a little bit. "Sure."

Once Mr. Eriksson had given them their papers, they both looked at the assignment.

"Write a 1 page essay on what you would describe as any changes on your emotional scale since the school year began. This should be a cinch," said Elsa.

Adam's eyes grew wide at the assignment.

"We're gonna need more than 1 piece of paper."

For the remainder of the class, Adam and Elsa wrote their collective paper. For Elsa, it was relatively easy; she was basically calm and collected throughout the year thus far, not a lot of change.

For Adam, it was a nightmare. From the anger of moving, to the depression of being forced to settle in his new home, to the happiness of being accepted in his group of friends and joining to the hockey team, only to go back to the depression of being left off the team, to the elation of being allowed to play, Adam had basically gone the whole circuit.

Of course, there were also some emotions that flared up when it came to the person he was writing this essay with. But he decided to keep that a secret for now.

Once they handed in their work, there was only a minute left until the bell was set to ring again. Returning to their seats, both Adam and Elsa grabbed their schoolbags.

"Well, that was certainly an interesting piece we wrote. You've been all over the place," said Elsa, suppressing a giggle.

"Yeah. Moving does that to you," said Adam, chuckling a little.

The bell then rang, once again signaling class had come to an end. Everyone made their way to the door to leave the room.

"Well, I'll see you tomorrow," said Elsa, giving him a little wave as she left.

"Yeah, bye," said Adam, almost glued in place.

Elsa took off down the hall and out of sight. Adam just stood there, thinking.

 _"Actually, it's more like you'll see me later today. I probably should have told her I'd be showing up at her house to work on a group project with her sister and Kristoff, whom she probably knows as that big defense guy from the hockey team. Darn."_

* * *

 **And you can put this chapter in the books. Or online archive, fic, whatever you prefer.**

 **I decided to take a little break from the hockey portion of the story in this chapter. Don't worry, it'll be returning soon (nobody's worrying... shoot. XD).**

 **I know a few people may be disappointed by the "group project" thing - after all, it is one of the most overused plot devices in high school stories, as that's almost always the way the boy/girl meet, and this story is no exception, at least in Kristoff/Anna's case. By throwing Adam in the group, however, it results both he AND Kristoff frequently visiting their respective crushes. It opens up many many MANY story opportunities, so it was a relatively easy decision to go this route.**

 **And don't worry: Adam and Elsa are never going to become self aware that they're in a fan fiction story.** **After all, who knows...**

 **We may be a fictional story OURSELVES.**

 **0_0**

 **Have a nice day?**

* * *

 ***shuts mic off***

 **AHAHAHAHAHAHA AHAHOHOHOHOH AHAHAHA HOHOH hohoh hhahahaha aahahaoo hohoh ha. That was pretty funny, right?**

 **...**

 **A** **nyone?**


	8. Chapter 8

**Hi again, and welcome back to Cold Defense. Sorry this chapter took a little longer than usual, a series of events I will collectively refer to as real life took hold. THE HORRORS.**

 **Well, in addition to other stuff I had to do, it also took me a little while to get motivated to write this chapter. Usually, I'm ready to go on to the next chapter almost immediately after I finish the previous one, but it took me a little while to really get in the mood for this one. If you force your writing, it's gonna show, so I figured it's better to wait and deliver a (hopefully) higher quality product than to rush a piece of crap.**

 **Well, that's about it from me for now. On with the story.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Frozen. Never have, never will.**

Present

 _"Thoughts"_

 **Author's Note**

 _ **Flashback**_

* * *

After a very eventful 2nd and 3rd hour, the rest of Adam's school day passed without much excitement. Lunch, gym, the remaining classes, the same old stuff he had pretty much gotten used to by now. The only detail worthy of extra notice was that Coach Quinn wasn't at gym today, with a substitute instead serving as the teacher.

 _"He's probably out sick or something,"_ thought Adam. _"After all, everyone gets sick sometime."_

Later on, a couple hours after gym, the final bell of the school day rang throughout the halls. As soon as he heard the noise, a feeling of nervousness Adam had buried throughout the day began to resurface. School was over. And that meant it was time to go work on the project. At Anna's house. Or, as he more often thought of it, at Elsa's house.

Sighing to himself, Adam got up from his seat and headed for the classroom door. Being the last one out of the room, he didn't encounter anyone he knew in the hallway. He considered going to find Kristoff so they could head over to Anna's house, but he decided against it.

As Adam walked out of the school and out onto the sidewalk nearby, he quickly took out his cell phone and dialed his father.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Dad. Listen, I'm going over to a friend's house to work on a school project, so I won't be home for a little while, okay?"

Patrick yawned over the phone, giving Adam the signal his father didn't really mind.

"Ok, sure. Just be back before it gets dark, alright?" he replied.

"Sure thing. Bye," said Adam as he hung up the phone.

Now that he had that taken care of, the next order of business was to... find their house. He had their address on a little slip of paper Anna had given him, but Adam had no general idea where this place was.

 _"Shoot."_

The first instinct Adam had was to find someone he knew and ask them where to go. He wouldn't tell them who actually lived at the location, of course, just where it could be found. Unfortunately, nobody he could recognize was nearby, not even any of his hockey teammates. He also really didn't want to risk asking a stranger, as it would probably look tremendously awkward, so asking someone was no longer an option.

Cursing himself for his decision to not seek out Kristoff, Adam moved on to option #2. With his cell phone still in hand, he opened up a map of the area. Punching in the address in the search bar, the application was nice enough to give him a route he could take to the house from his exact location. Technology.

As Adam began his trek, however, a problem began to emerge. The map wasn't three dimensional, making it rather difficult to tell if he was going the right way. Sure, there were street signs that were, in theory, supposed to guide him, but they were all in Swedish.

 _"So, my first real encounter with the language barrier. You know, I've been taking Swedish for the past two months, and the only things I know how to say are 'Hello' and 'My name is Adam.' Still, I guess this had to happen eventually."_

Although the direction he was taking felt largely random, Adam continued on. After passing by a drug store, a bakery, and a few other small businesses, he checked the map again; it appeared that he was moving in the right direction, but he didn't know for sure.

Thinking back to earlier in the day, Adam wished he had asked Anna for a description of what their house looked like, or perhaps the surrounding area. He was so lost in the thought that he would be also be visiting Elsa's house because Elsa was Anna's sister, however, that all of these things slipped his mind.

After a couple more minutes of walking, Adam came face to face with a rather fancy looking gate that led to what appeared to be an affluent neighborhood. A quick look at his phone confirmed he was apparently still going the right direction, so that meant that the two sisters' lived in this area.

 _"They must have a lot of money,"_ Adam thought. _"This place is nicer than any of the neighborhoods I've ever really seen here OR in Minnesota."_

Taking a gulp of intimidation, Adam walked on the sidewalk past the gates and into the neighborhood. After a minute or two of walking down a long, straight road with (enormous) houses on both sides and no opportunities to turn except for the gigantic driveways, Adam took another look at his phone. The map was telling him he had arrived at his destination, and the house was immediately to his right.

As he looked to his right, Adam's eyes nearly popped out of his skull. All of the houses' in this neighborhood were big, but this one was HUGE. It didn't have a gate, but it had a giant driveway with several cars parked out front, as well as three garages. Adam was completely certain the more 'exotic' vehicles were kept inside, rather than out in the open.

Thankfully, despite the enormity of the structure, it still had a small porch with a front door. There was even a doorbell.

 _"Thank god they use those things here."_

After confirming that he had arrived at the correct place using the little piece of paper Anna had given him with their address written on it, Adam gulped for the second time that afternoon and made his way up to the front door. Swallowing his fear, he rang the doorbell, only for his hand to immediately shoot back to his side. It took a second for Adam to contemplate exactly what he just did.

 _"What have I done? If Elsa answers the door, how am I going to explain what I'm doing here? 'Hi, I'm working on a project with your sister?' Even though it is true, the way I put that is cringeworthy. And hell, how am I going to explain that I even know where she lives? OR EVEN WORSE, what if one of her parents answers the door? I am so screwed, I should have waited for Kristoff or something, what on Earth am I..."_

Adam's panicked thinking was interrupted by the door opening. He held his breath.

"Hello? Oh, hi!"

Adam breathed an enormous sigh of relief when he saw it was Anna who answered the door. It was painfully obvious he had been nervous about something.

"Uh, are you ok?" she asked.

Adam was still patting himself on the back for a job well done. He was no chicken.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, I'm fine."

Anna raised her eyebrows. "Okay then. C'mon, Kristoff's already here," she said as she stepped aside, allowing him in.

"Oh, that's ni... wait, he's already HERE?"

"Yeah. Why were you so late?" she asked. She was joking around but still raising a serious question.

"I... got lost? Yeah, I was lost," replied Adam. He wasn't lying, but at the same time, he wasn't exactly lost, he just... didn't know where to go.

"Oh? I gave you our address."

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean I know where the address is. I just moved here, I barely know where anything is!"

"Well, you know where our house is now. C'mon," she said while laughing.

Once their little conversation was over, Adam breathed another, albeit much smaller, sigh of relief. If he had waited outside for Kristoff outside the house rather than taking the initiative and going up to the door like he did, he would have been waiting until Kristoff LEFT the house. That could have been hours.

As Adam took off his shoes and left them on the rug (Anna had let him know that was alright), he took a look around the hall. The house on the outside didn't really appear like a mansion, despite being very large, but the inside begged to differ. Expensive furniture adorned the various rooms that Adam could glimpse into, as well as many paintings and other various collectibles filling the walls and shelves. Everything, of course, looked tremendously expensive and was kept in immaculate condition.

 _"Boy, it would really suck if there was an earthquake."_

Rather than heading into one of these nice looking rooms, however, Anna led Adam to a rather ordinary looking door at the end of the hall. Upon opening it, Adam could tell it was an entrance to a basement.

"You know, your hose is gigantic," said Adam, trying to break the silence that had begun to creep in.

Anna smiled at him. "Thanks."

After that little exchange, both teenagers headed downstairs. It was actually a fair bit further down than an average basement, but it was clearly furnished, as it was completely illuminated and the floor was carpeted.

Once he reached the bottom, Adam looked around, expecting another ornate chamber, only to be pleasantly surprised; a PlayStation 4 and a gamer chair were near the wall, as well as a good deal of furniture scattered about, with snacks on seemingly every table. At the end of the room was a desk with several chairs. Kristoff occupied one of these, furiously writing something.

Adam had to know. "Who's PS4?"

Anna laughed a little bit. "Oh, that's mine. My sister Elsa doesn't play it."

Adam wanted to ask whether she was here, but he was worried it would sound a little suspicious. After all, had Elsa even told her sister about him? _"Still, what's the worst that could happen?"_

"Your sister, huh? Out of curiosity, is she home?"

Anna gave him another small smile. "No, she's practicing with the figure skating team. I had a feeling you'd ask that, she's talked about you a little bit," replied Anna.

Adam was very surprised by this. "She has?"

"Oh yeah, she's gone on before about how you're really nice and this and that. It was actually getting a little annoying," said Anna, laughing.

This was certainly news to Adam. He replied by staring at the wall.

Thankfully, what felt like an awkward conversation (to Adam, at least) was broken up by Kristoff.

"HEY! ARE YOU GONNA GET OVER HERE AND HELP ME OR WHAT, I'M DOING ALL THE WORK, YOU KNOW!" Kristoff couldn't finish this proclamation without letting a chuckle or two slip out at the end.

Anna sighed a little bit. "I'm coming, I'm coming! C'mon, Adam," she said as she made her way back to the desk.

Now it was Adam's turn to laugh. He could almost never recall Kristoff yelling before, but if he was already perfectly fine with jokingly doing so at Anna, things were really flying in what appeared to be a fast moving friendship between them.

 _"Well that was quick. And to think he was so shy earlier,"_ thought Adam.

* * *

After a couple hours of work, fatigue had clearly begun to set in on the group. Conversation had largely slowed to a crawl, and the quality of the work they were doing seemed to be slipping as well. Adam couldn't take it anymore.

"You know what? I'm sorry, but I can tell we're beginning to go off the deep end. Can we finish this up on another day?"

Anna breathed a sigh of relief. "I was hoping someone would bring it up. How long have we been working for anyways, 30 minutes?"

"Let me check," said Kristoff, whipping out his phone to look at the clock. "No, it's actually been... 2 and a half hours."

Neither Adam nor Anna could believe it.

"That long? Wow, time really flew, didn't it?" said Anna after a few seconds of silence.

Adam nodded his head. "Yeah."

...

"So like, uh, what now?"

Anna smiled a little bit. "You wanna play NHL?"

Kristoff was a little confused. "What, on the PS4?"

"Yeah, what else would we use?"

Adam grinned a little bit. "I haven't played NHL since NHL 13 on the Xbox 360. Then I got the RROD."

Anna laughed at Adam's tragic story. "Well don't worry, that won't happen here. C'mon," she said as she began to walk over to the PS4. Adam and kristoff just looked at each other, only to shrug their shoulders. They followed after her.

As Anna set everything up, Adam spoke up. "Hey, can I use your restroom?"

"Sure, it's upstairs, down the hall and to the right."

"Thanks."

Once he received the directions, Adam exited the basement and reentered the enormous hallway. As he walked down what felt like the Hall of Origins **(a not so subtle Pokemon reference thrown in for my own personal amusement)** , he was relieved to see that the bathroom was one of the only rooms in the hall with the door open. He stepped inside to meet the needs of the body, shutting the door behind him.

* * *

While Adam was on the potty, Anna and Kristoff were in the middle of a not so competitive game of NHL. Anna had chosen the Chicago Blackhawks, while Kristoff picked the Nashville Predators. Unfortunately for the blond, Anna was far superior at the game, considering she was already beating him 5-0 despite being only 4 minutes in. It only took another minute for her to put another one on the board.

Kristoff watched with complete helplessness as Anna carved up the defense with Patrick Kane, finishing up the play with a beautiful spin-o-rama backhand goal that found its way into the top corner of the net.

Anna just looked at Kristoff with a smile on her face. "You're not even trying."

"Yes I am! You're just better at the game than me," said Kristoff, looking down on the floor, pretending to have his feelings hurt.

"Well, that is true."

Kristoff chuckled. "You know, if this was real hockey, me and Adam would stop all of these goals."

Anna giggled a little in response. "Well then, it's a good thing this isn't real hockey."

"Yeah, because during this conversation, I've distracted you enough to score a goal."

Anna eyes went wide in disbelief. As soon as she looked back at the screen, however, it was true; Shea Weber was in the middle of some elaborate goal celebration, despite the score now being only 6-1. None of that mattered, however. The shutout was ruined.

Anna held the controller hard enough that her knuckles turned white.

"Oh, it's on now."

* * *

As Adam stepped out of the bathroom, he took another look around the gigantic hallway. It really was ridiculous just how big this place was; it seemed like it was even bigger on the outside than the inside.

Adam was familiar with the phrase 'curiosity killed the cat', but he couldn't help himself; he had to take a look around the house, just for a minute or two.

The first room he came to was what appeared to be a kitchen. It was very nice, but there wasn't anything truly extraordinary about it. Adam would've simply dismissed this room, but the next three he looked into were identical.

 _"Do they really need four kitchens? Eh, if you can afford it."_

Once he was done pondering the complete absurdity of the situation, he moved on to the next room what appeared to be a living room. Plush furniture adorned the room, with a humongous TV that took up the whole wall sitting at the far end.

Adam marveled at the TV. It was obviously not as large as a movie theater, but it may as well have been one.

Deciding he had done enough snooping, Adam was about to make his way back downstairs when he heard the front door open and close. He froze.

 _"Oh shoot. It should be a little easier to explain what I'm doing here than it would have been on the front porch, but still... this is gonna be awkward. Especially if it's their parents."_

Realizing he only had a few more seconds before whoever it was entered the hallway, Adam began walking down the hallway towards the basement as casually as he could. He was about halfway there when the mystery person was revealed.

It was Elsa.

She had been looking at something else, but when she saw Adam, she stopped dead in her tracks. Adam did the same.

"Uh... hi, Elsa."

Elsa gave him the most suspicious look you could imagine coming from Elsa.

"What are you doing here?"

Adam knew there was really no point in lying. This was one of those rare situations where the truth was actually the best answer.

"I was working on a science project with your sister and my friend Kristoff."

Elsa didn't look like she believed him. "Oh yeah? And where are they?"

"Down in the basement. Actually, they're playing NHL 15 at the moment."

Elsa immediately swiveled around on her heels and headed for the basement. Once she reached the top of the stairs, she called down to her sister.

"Anna! You down there?"

"Yeah! Hey, since you're up there, will you go and get Adam back down here? He went to use the restroom, but I'm not sure what's taking him so long!" came the reply from the basement, followed by a goal horn and an obnoxious yell of celebration.

Elsa exhaled a little and turned around to face Adam again.

"Sorry."

Adam didn't understand why she was apologizing. "Don't be. I would be suspicious if someone I only knew a little was in my house too."

Elsa laughed a little. "Yeah, that's true. But why didn't you tell me you would be coming over?"

"It slipped my mind. Sorry."

 _"Actually, it's because I was an idiot."_

After a moment of awkward silence, Adam spoke up again.

"So, you, uh, wanna join us? We were about to have a tournament or something."

Elsa smiled a little, but she shook her head. "No thanks. I don't really play video games."

"Aw, come on, you said you love hockey, and it IS hockey we're playing... even though it's virtual. You sure?"

After a moment of thinking, Elsa shrugged her shoulders. "I won't play, but I guess I'll watch."

Adam smiled a bit. "Great. C'mon, let's go!" he said as he led the way to the basement.

Elsa returned the smile.

* * *

For the next few hours, Adam, Elsa, Kristoff, and Anna had a wonderful time. While there were only two controllers, everyone was perfectly fine with either watching or playing, with curses, insults, and cheers of victory and groans of defeat flying every which way. Even Elsa, who said she wouldn't play, couldn't resist.

After Anna had again clobbered Kristoff using the Blackhawks (Kristoff had also tried the Minnesota Wild, Anaheim Ducks, and Tampa Bay Lightning, with no success), she announced she was giving up her controller for a little while.

Adam was about to volunteer to play, but much to his surprise, Elsa beat him to it.

"You know what, I'll try playing a game," she said as she grabbed the controller.

Adam looked at her in confusion. "I thought you said you weren't gonna play."

"I changed my mind."

Shrugging his shoulders for what felt like the millionth time that day at this sound logic, Adam tapped Kristoff on the shoulder.

"Hey, do you mind if I play?" he asked.

"Go right ahead. I've had enough defeat for today," said Kristoff dejectedly. Adam just laughed at the blond's misfortune; he knew he was joking.

Now that Adam and Elsa were at the helm, they scrolled through the team select screen. Adam chose the Calgary Flames, while Elsa chose the Toronto Maple Leafs.

"Why the Leafs?"

"I like the name."

"Ditto."

Once everything was set up, the game began. Actually, it was a stretch to call it a game at all; Elsa had no idea what to do, and Adam was the same, considering he hadn't played the NHL series in years.

Once he had the puck, Adam began skating up the ice with Mark Giordano. "Okay, here we go, just get close to the net," he mumbled.

Elsa desperately tried to body check him with every player on the ice with comical results, missing every time. All of it was for nothing, as Adam was able to score a goal off a slapshot, the only move he knew how to do in the game.

"YES!" he yelled, jumping up and doing a goal celebration; it wasn't like he got to do them very often in real games, after all.

Elsa giggled a little bit, but she decided to play along. "Hey, shut up! That was a garbage goal, I'll get it back."

"Garbage goal? What are you talking about, a goal is a goal, no matter how it's scored," said Adam as he sat back down.

"That one was garbage, I let you score."

"No you didn't, you tried to body check me with all of your players!"

"You wanna fight?"

"Sure, hit the triangle button!"

Anna and Kristoff watched with amusement as Adam and Elsa continued to (pretend to) argue, especially during the fight between what appeared to be an unidentifiable Maple Leafs player and an unidentifiable Calgary Flames player.

"You know, they really get along well, don't they?" whispered Anna to Kristoff, just loudly enough for him to hear over the yelling of the two, who were now desperately flailing at the thumbsticks, trying to land a punch.

"Yeah, they do," came the reply from Kristoff. "Although Adam started it, celebrating after a goal like that."

"You're one to talk. You only scored two in the four games we played."

"Hey, I wasn't really trying!" said Kristoff, raising his voice a little.

"Yes you were, you were going all out on defense!" replied Anna, also raising her voice.

"That doesn't mean I was actually trying to win!"

"Yes it does!"

And then Kristoff and Anna got into an argument just as loud as Adam and Elsa's, all on the topic of hockey. But everyone knew everyone else was just horsing around, as they all eventually gave up and just started laughing about the whole thing.

After a solid minute or two, everyone finally began to calm down. Wiping the tears from his eyes, Adam looked at the screen.

"Oh, and Elsa?"

"Yeah?"

"I won 1-0."

* * *

Adam was lying in his bed, staring up at the ceiling. It was nearly midnight, but he couldn't sleep. He kept running the day's events through his mind, the last portion in particular. The 'last portion' began at 9:30, when Adam and Kristoff realized they needed to head home. Actually, it was a phone call from Adam's father than made the decision for them.

* * *

 _ **Adam, Elsa, Kristoff, and Anna were gathered in the room Adam had investigated earlier, the one with the enormous TV, watching a movie. Adam was laughing at something Elsa had said when he felt his phone vibrating; a quick look at the caller ID showed it was his dad.**_

 _ **"Hey, pause the movie for a second, I'm getting a call," said Adam. Elsa did as he asked, stopping the film for him.**_

 ** _Adam hit the 'answer' button. "Hello?"_**

 ** _"Hi, son. Do you happen to know where you are?"_**

 ** _"Uh, I'm still at my friend's house. We were working on our project, but now we're watching Transformers 2 and commenting on how bad it is."  
_**

 ** _"Oh wow, that sound like fun," said Patrick. Adam didn't like where he was going with this. "But do you have any idea what time it is?"_**

 ** _Adam realized he actually didn't really have a general clue of what the time was. "I don't know, like six?"_**

 ** _Adam could hear his dad exhale on the other end. "Actually, it's exactly 9:30."_**

 ** _Adam's shut his eyes. And then he braced himself._**

 ** _"I thought I told you to be back before it got dark."_**

 ** _Adam's eyes opened a little. He was expecting his father to get in a shouting fit, even though he couldn't remember the last time he had done that. Still, he had prepared for it anyways._**

 ** _"Dad, I'm so sorry, I completely lost track of the time. I'll head home right now, I promise."_**

 ** _His dad sighed. "Okay, fine, just be safe on the way."_**

 ** _Adam smiled a little bit, appreciative of the concern his father was showing. "Sure thing. I'll see you in a bit."_**

 ** _Adam disconnected the call and looked around the room; everyone was staring at him with strange expressions._**

 ** _"What?"_**

 ** _"You looked like you were preparing for a nuclear explosion. You okay?" asked Anna._**

 ** _"Yeah, I'm fine. I just thought my dad was going to yell at me."_**

 ** _"Okay, just making sure, you seriously looked terrified there."_**

 ** _Once they finished their conversation, Adam put the bowl of potato chips he had been holding on a nearby table and stood up._**

 ** _"Well, it's been really fun today... and tonight, but I have to go," he said._**

 ** _"You do?" said Anna, sighing. "Well, I guess if you have to, you have to. Say, you wanna come back and work on the project some more tomorrow?"_**

 ** _"Sorry, but we have a road game tomorrow. We can't," replied Kristoff._**

 ** _"I see. Okay then, we'll just figure it out later."_**

 ** _Nodding his head, Adam was about to go get his shoes from the front of the house when he remembered something._**

 ** _"Uh, this is gonna sound really stupid, but remember how I was late arriving here?"_**

 ** _"Yeah, so what?" replied Anna._**

 ** _"The reason was because it took me a while to find my way here, since I don't know the area, and I really don't trust my judgement of finding my way back at night. Are either of your parents home?" he asked._**

 ** _"No, they don't come back from work until 10."_**

 ** _Adam mumbled "Shoot" under his breath. Just as he was about to make a joke about how he would brave his way home, however, Elsa stood up._**

 ** _"Here, I'll walk you home, I know my way around really well. Where do you live?"_**

 ** _Adam stood there gaping for a second, the reason being a combination of both surprise from the offer and the painful realization that he actually didn't know exactly where his address was, despite being in Arendelle for more than two months._**

 ** _"It's the... uh... house at the end of the long lane of them."_**

 ** _Elsa laughed at his terrible description. "I think I know what you're talking about. C'mon, let's go."_**

 ** _Adam followed her out the door, keeping his head down to hide the blush growing on his face. Kristoff followed behind him, as he apparently said something about how he needed to leave too._**

 ** _After they had slipped on their shoes, Adam, Elsa, and Kristoff headed out the front door. After saying their goodbyes, Kristoff headed down the road to the right, while Adam and Elsa took the opposite path to the left._**

 ** _After a couple of minutes of walking in silence, Adam found it in him to try to start a conversation; the shyness that seemed to come and go when he was around Elsa had returned with a vengeance._**

 ** _"Well, we have a game tomorrow. It's on the road, but are you gonna watch?"_**

 ** _Elsa shook her head. "No, I probably won't be able to, sorry."_**

 ** _Adam just nodded in acknowledgement. After a few more quiet moments, he decided to bring up another subject._**

 ** _"Hey Els, if you don't mind me asking, what exactly went through your mind when you saw me in your house for the first time today?"_**

 ** _"Well, my first reaction was surprise, but then I was startled. After all, I had no idea why you would be there," she said, suppressing a laugh at the last part of her reason._**

 ** _Adam smiled at her. "Yeah, I don't blame you. I should have told you I would be arriving at your house during 3rd hour."  
_**

 ** _"Yeah, but it's okay. I was just curious as to wh... wait a second."_**

 ** _Adam was confused as to why she stopped mid sentence. "What?"_**

 ** _"Did you just call me 'Els'?"_**

 ** _Adam was about to question what she was talking about when he realized she was right; he did just call her 'Els'._**

 ** _"I guess my brain just came up with a nickname. Is there a problem?" he said, adding a little sarcasm on the question._**

 ** _Elsa couldn't stop her laughter this time. "No, not at all. I was just a little surprised, that's all."  
_**

 ** _For the next few minutes, Adam and Elsa had a rather extended conversation about nicknames, including humiliating ones that had been bestowed on them, ones they liked, ones they DIDN'T like, etc._**

 ** _Adam was just about to go on about how he nicknamed one of his teammates the 'bench cheerleading extraordinaire' when he saw they had arrived at his house._**

 ** _"Well, I guess we're here," he said as they walked up to his front door._**

 ** _"It's a nice place."_**

 ** _Adam shook his head a little. "Come on, it's nothing compared to yours."_**

 ** _"I like our house, but I've always thought that smaller places would be nice as well. It really just depends," she said._**

 ** _"Yeah, I suppose. We'll I guess I'll see you tomorrow," replied Adam. Elsa nodded her head in agreement._**

 ** _"Goodnight... Els," said Adam, smiling a little at the nickname._**

 ** _Rather than looking up at him, Adam was surprised to see her suddenly look down at the floor, as if she was... hiding something? It was very similar to how he had hid his blush back at the house when Elsa offered to walk with him back home._**

 ** _"Yeah, goodnight Adam," she said, only looking back up a little, as she was still looking at the ground. She then began to turn around and head back the way they came._** ** _After remaining still on the porch for a second, Adam also turned around, except to instead go into the house._**

 ** _"Hi Dad," said Adam as he entered the room. His dad was sitting in the armchair, watching television._**

 ** _"Welcome back. So how was the project?"_**

 ** _"It was fine. Listen, I know it's only about ten, but I'm gonna hit the hay, alright? I'm pretty tired," said Adam. It was true; he had quite the eventful day, and fatigue was just beginning to set in._**

 ** _"Okay, if you say so. Remember, you have school AND a game tomorrow, so that's probably for the best," replied his father_**

 ** _"Yeah, yeah, I know. Goodnight," said Adam as he headed up the stairs._**

 ** _After he changed into his pajamas, he climbed into bed and rolled over on his bed, ready to get a good night's sleep._**

* * *

It was almost midnight, and Adam still hadn't gone to sleep. His body was tired, but his mind was not; it kept running through today, finding any excuse it could to not shut down for the night. Groaning, Adam flipped his pillow for the billionth time. He was about to pull the covers up to his ears when he heard his phone vibrating.

 _"Somebody's calling me NOW? It's almost midnight!"_ thought Adam as he reached over to his nightstand to see who it was; the caller ID read it was Kristoff. He had _never_ called this late before, so this was certainly unusual.

Groaning again, Adam answered the call while turning on the lamp, illuminating the room.

"Hello?" said Adam in a tired voice.

"Adam! Did I wake you up?" came the reply from the blond. His voice sounded like a combination of panic and excitement, causing Adam to start to snap out of his half-asleep state a little.

"Yeah, you did. What's up?"

"Have you heard? Everyone on the hockey team is talking about it, I already called Sven and Olaf."

Now his curiosity was piqued. "No, I haven't heard. What?" said Adam, growing impatient; he had to know what everyone was apparently freaking out about.

After a moment of silence, Kristoff spoke again:

"It's Coach Quinn. He's resigned."

* * *

 **CUT CUT CUT CUT CUT STOP THE CAMERAS! Well, isn't that a sharp cliffhanger? XD**

 **In all seriousness, I had envisioned since the end of the last chapter that this one would end with Coach Quinn leaving the team. It wasn't an easy decision to make; I meant to portray him as an antagonistic character in this story, but I think I almost went overboard a little bit. This put me in a difficult situation: do I try to work the team around him, or do I can him? Since teams with dysfunctional coaching almost never succeed in real life, I decided to go with option #2. Now things will get really interesting regarding the hockey team, lol.**

 **To be honest, that's all there really is to say about this chapter, other than, as usual, I hope you enjoyed it.**

 **Have a nice day.**


	9. Chapter 9

**How's it going, and welcome back to Cold Defense.**

 **Before we begin, I'd like to apologize for what can be seen as an inconsistent release schedule. I typically write these chapters in a 24 hour time span, with proofreading coming the following day (I don't use a beta reader. I also don't see myself seeking one out, so sorry if you may have been interested or something), but the writing process has recently been a little more fractured. This is because I've been more busy than usual the past couple of weeks or so, and it's only going to increase with school beginning in the middle of August. Ye shouldn't despair, however; the chapters will keep coming. I'm not going to abandon this story, casting it into the endless graveyard that grows by the day.**

 **Okay, enough rambling from me. On with the story.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Frozen. Never have, never will.**

Present

 _"Thoughts"_

 **Author's Note**

 _ **Flashback**_

* * *

 _ **After a moment of silence, Kristoff spoke again:**_

 _ **"It's Coach Quinn. He's resigned."**_

* * *

It took Adam a moment to register the news. Once he did, the immediate first reaction in his mind was... happiness? After all, Coach Quinn was the one who left him out of the lineup for the first few games. If anything, it almost felt like justice, even though it was apparently his decision to quit, rather than being fired.

But this feeling of elation didn't last long. Just as soon as it arrived, it was replaced with anger.

"What do you mean he _resigned?"_ Adam said over the phone, a little louder than he intended to.

Kristoff sighed a little bit. "Alright, listen. I'm not sure how true these details are, but apparently he had already handed in his resignation before the year even began. The only reason he stuck around was because the school couldn't find a replacement, so he wasn't allowed to leave."

"So does this mean they found someone to replace him as coach?"

"Pretty much."

Adam still didn't really understand. "Why would they not tell us this?"

"I think it's so the team wouldn't basically stop trying. I mean, come on, would you, for example, work hard for an employer if you knew he was going to fire you in a month?" said Kristoff.

Adam had to give him points there. If Coach Quinn had told the team he was _going_ to leave soon, but didn't do so immediately after he announced it, then what incentive would the team have to play hard under him? To win?

 _"Yeah right, we haven't won anything in more than 20 years."_

Adam decided to change the subject. "Do we know who the new coach is?" he asked.

"No clue. I heard he'll join the team on Wednesday," replied Kristoff. The blond couldn't see it, but Adam frowned.

"On Wednesday? But we have a game TOMORROW, on Tuesday! Who's gonna coach?"

Kristoff didn't say anything for a few seconds. Finally, he cleared his throat and spoke quieter than he had been. "I'm not sure. We may not have anyone behind the bench at all."

Adam could hardly believe this. "That's impossible. It has to be, I don't know, illegal or something to play without a head coach, even if it's just an interim. Somebody has to coach."

"I wish I knew more. I'm sure we'll get more information tomorrow," said Kristoff, trying to reassure Adam.

Adam was still furious at this development. "Yeah. Bye," he said as he hung up the phone.

Once the call was disconnected, Adam angrily slammed his phone on his nightstand and plopped back down in his bed. All of the previous happy thoughts of his day with Elsa were immediately replaced with frustration, and there was certainly some finger pointing to do.

The first thought that came to Adam was Coach Quinn; it felt like he was essentially bailing out on the team because things weren't going well, but if what Kristoff said was true, than it wasn't exactly his jurisdiction as to when he would be allowed to leave. Still, the timing of this announcement couldn't have been more catastrophic; now they had to essentially adopt a whole new playbook and learn a new system under a new coach on the fly. There wouldn't be a training camp to warm up this time around.

Of course, all of this relayed in Adam's mind to tomorrow's game. If Coach Quinn really did quit, then he wouldn't be the coach of the team for tomorrow's game. Just who WOULD coach? The team didn't have any assistant coaches that could fill in as the head coach for a single game, and Adam couldn't think of anyone else that could do the job. Would they have to forfeit the game? Adam couldn't think of a single precedent for this situation, so he had no idea what to expect.

Adam looked at the clock; the time now read it was nearly 12:45 AM. Exhaling loudly, he turned to his side and flicked off the lamp. He didn't really realize it, but he had finally burned himself out. Hopefully sleep could follow.

* * *

Nobody in their group said anything about the team during first hour. Nobody said anything during second or third hour, either. Adam and Kristoff tried to be as nice as they could throughout the early part of the day, but Anna (and Elsa, in Adam's case) could tell something was clearly bothering them.

Finally, lunch arrived. For the first few minutes, everyone sat at the table in silence. The quiet was an illusion, however; everyone was waiting for someone else to begin what would be a firestorm of conversation. Adam decided to be the spark.

"What the hell, man."

Olaf immediately spoke up. "I refuse to believe we're allowed to play without a coach."

"Well, we're about to find out, aren't we? I haven't heard anything about someone filling in," said Sven.

Kristoff shook his head a little. "C'mon, be reasonable. Someone's gonna serve as coach. Hopefully."

Adam just surveyed the whole thing with a frown. Finally, he leaned forward in his chair and spoke to the whole group:

"We have to forfeit, don't we."

* * *

As the final bell of the school day rang, Adam slowly stood up from his desk and made his way to the classroom door. Everyone was hurrying out of the room, eager to meet up with friends, leave the building, etc, but Adam couldn't have been less enthused. He had to report to the ice rink before they got on the bus to head over to whatever town they were going to play in. If they were going to play at all, of course. Nobody knew for certain.

Shaking his head to himself (he was certain he looked strange to other people in the hallway, but he didn't care), Adam trudged to the ice rink. They weren't going to warm up there; everyone merely had to report in before they got on the bus to play on the road.

When he reached the entrance to the locker room, he saw a few people signing a sheet of paper; it appeared to be an attendance sheet. The absolute majority, however, was reading a sign posted on the wall. Curious as to what could be so interesting, Adam joined them and read what it said.

* * *

Kristoff walked into the locker room, his bag slung over his shoulder halfheartedly; he clearly wasn't in a particularly happy mood. When he looked around, however, he saw that most people, including Adam, were getting their stuff ready, despite the fact that there was apparently no coach. Did this mean they were going to play?

Kristoff was confused as to what was going on. He walked up to Adam to get the scoop; he needed to know if they were going to play.

"Hey, Adam, what's going on around here?" he said as he approached him. Adam looked up and, much to the blond's surprise, he smiled.

"Hey... _coach."_

Kristoff was confused. What kind of a joke was Adam playing at? Actually, why was he making a joke at all? Last time he saw him, Adam was just as depressed as himself.

"What are you talking about?"

Adam finished zipping up his bag and walked over to Kristoff, slinging it over the shoulder in the process.

"You're not gonna believe this, but Coach Quinn thought ahead. He knew we were gonna have to play a game without a proper head coach, so he's designated what is known as a player coach."

"A player coach?" The name was fairly self explanatory, but Kristoff had never heard of one before.

"Yeah, it's a roster player that also serves as the coach of the team. They're extremely rare, but he's made one of us the head coach AND an active roster player," replied Adam.

Kristoff had to know. "Well, who is it? Who's the co..."

" _Hold on. Adam just called me 'coach' a minute ago. As a joke."_

...

Adam smiled again. "Congrats. You've got the job."

Kristoff was flabbergasted.

"B-but why me?" he asked, in a baffled tone of voice.

"Probably because he trusted you the most or something. But honestly, I wouldn't think too much of it. Our new coach is officially joining the team during practice tomorrow, so this is only for tonight's game. The only reason this is being done at all is so we don't have to forfeit the match."

Kristoff breathed a sigh of relief. His mind had just begun to process the sheer amount of responsibility he thought was placed on him, only to be pulled back by reality; this was just for one game. Even if they lost, it wasn't really going to affect anything in the long run.

Now that he had all of that sorted out, Kristoff spoke up again. "So, I'm really the coach now," he said while chuckling.

"I guess you are," replied Adam. "Are you gonna address the team?"

Kristoff thought about it for a moment. "I'll talk to everyone when we arrive at the arena we're going to."

Just then, the door to the locker room swung open, revealing Sven and Olaf. They must have heard the news from somewhere else, because all they did was smile and walk up to Kristoff, giving him a military salute.

The blond responded with a laugh.

* * *

As the bus pulled into the parking lot of the school's hockey arena, Adam took a look around. It seemed to be a nice enough place in a nice enough area, although the arena appeared somewhat bigger than the one in Central Arendelle, meaning it probably held more people. It was only about 20 minutes away from CA (Central Arendelle), so everyone would get a ride home from their parents, rather than having the bus drive them back to the school after the game, as they would do if they were traveling particularly far.

The thing that really caught Adam's attention, however, was how many cars there were; the entire parking lot was full, in addition to the roads leading up to the arena. Kristoff had warned him that this was a very passionate hockey school, and that definitely appeared to be the case.

 _"Well, we're gonna be playing in front of a gigantic hostile crowd then,"_ thought Adam. He couldn't wait.

After a couple minutes of maneuvering around the parking lot, the bus pulled into a nearby garage on the side of the arena. As soon as the vehicle stopped, the doors whipped open.

"Alright, everybody out!" yelled the driver. Adam could hear a few of the players thanking him on the way out for the ride. _"He must be the regular bus driver or something. Funny we can find one of those, but we can't seem to find a coach."_

Once everyone got off the bus with their equipment bags, they went into the visitor's locker room, the door being at the far end of the garage room.

The first feeling Adam got was claustrophobia, as this locker room was tiny. It seemed like there were only inches of space between each locker stall, and there wasn't even another room connected that the coach was supposed to set up shop in. Adam figured the way they built this room was done on purpose, to intimidate the opposition.

Once everyone had suited up, conversation ceased when Kristoff went to the middle of the room, exactly the same as Coach Quinn would do. After getting everyone's attention, he cleared his throat and began to speak:

"Alright, guys. I'm sure you know by now how Mr. Quinn... resigned, so I'll be serving as 'player coach' for today only. Don't worry, the newly hired guy will be coming in for tomorrow, but for today, I'm in charge."

Nobody really gave any signs that they disapproved; it appeared that everyone was fine with this little arrangement.

Kristoff continued. "Anyways, I'm not gonna draw up a crazy game plan or anything, since, well, it wouldn't work. We're just gonna roll with the same plan we used last game, with the same lines. Okay?" A few people grunted their acceptance, while most nodded their heads.

"Alright. We all know our jobs, let's follow them. Okay boys, here we go."

Sure enough, just as he finished talking, a little buzzer went off, startling a few people. It was time to take the ice.

Everyone lined up in single file to head out of the locker room, with Kristoff at the front. Adam, on the other hand, was in the back, stretching as quickly as he could before they headed out.

After a few seconds, the line started moving, with chatter being thrown around by the players, mostly consisting of stuff like 'here we go,' and 'let's get that win.' Once Adam was finally able to take the ice, however, his eyes widened.

The first thing he noticed was just how much bigger this arena was; sure, it looked like it could hold a few more people on the outside, but it was far bigger than Adam could have predicted. With what appeared to be a minimum of 8,000 seats, it was the biggest arena he had ever played in, and none of these seats were being wasted. Every chair in the house was filled by a very excited hockey crowd, and it didn't look like any of them were Central Arendelle fans. If all that wasn't enough, the intricate light show with the spotlights in addition to the _jumbotron_ (something CA sure didn't have) basically sealed the deal; this place was the best arena he had ever played in. Adam didn't even want to think about how loud this place would get if the home team scored a goal.

After taking a few laps around their side of the ice, Adam and the rest of the team except for the starters headed to the bench. He was still in awe of the environment this game would be played in; it was completely insane how different it was compared to the atmosphere at Central Arendelle.

Frowning to himself a little, Adam shook his head. As cool as this place was, all of this fanfare wasn't for them, it was for the other team. He needed to focus on the game. It was a good thing he refocused, because just as he cleared his mind, the ref blew his whistle and dropped the puck for the opening face-off. The game was on.

Although the other team won the face-off, the puck largely remained at center ice for the first minute or so, with nobody getting definitive possession. The game was already getting a little scrappy, with both teams jostling for position, meaning there was quite a bit of physicality. Too much, in the case of Olaf.

Just as one of the opposing players cleared the puck, Olaf hit the guy from behind. It would have probably been a clean hit had he still had possession, but the fact that it came after a pass meant that it was an interference penalty. Sure enough, the ref raised his arm high in the air, signaling a penalty was coming. Thankfully, they didn't have to wait very long, as Kristoff was able to intercept a pass, stopping play.

As the ref announced the penalty to the loudly cheering crowd, Kristoff skated over to the bench to talk with the team. he had to yell fairly loudly to be heard over the noise.

"Okay, we gotta kill a penalty! Just keep your cool and we'll be fine, guys, this is nothing. Adam, you'll be playing with me on defense. Dimitri and... Hans, you'll be the forwards. Okay, let's stop 'em cold!"

Adam, Hans, and Dimitri climbed over the boards and onto the ice, while the other players who were on the ice took their places on the bench. Adam was glad to be playing on the penalty kill, but he was also very impressed with Kristoff's leadership thus far; he knew he wasn't exactly a fan of Hans, but he was putting personal sentiment aside in favor of practicality.

As everyone on the ice lined up for the face-off, Adam looked at the formation the other team was using; it was clear they wanted to get a shot off almost immediately off the draw. This could easily be prevented if Dimitri won the face-off, but it would be very difficult to stop if he lost, as it's nearly impossible to guess which player the puck would go to.

When the referee dropped the puck, the worst case scenario occurred, with the puck cleanly going to their right winger. He fired a shot right at the net, low and to the right.

Adam was able to block it with the blade of his hockey stick. Unfortunately, the block also cost him said stick, as the blade snapped cleanly off.

Cursing the cheap piece of equipment, he had no choice but to discard the now broken hockey stick. With only his feet available to stop the puck, Adam's effectiveness as a defenseman plummeted; intercepting and making passes were now nearly impossible, and he only could block a shot if he lined up perfectly, something a player very rarely had time for.

The puck skittered across the boards, but it didn't clear the zone. As the opposing team reset their formation, Adam could see the forwards' eyes widen when they saw he didn't have a hockey stick, as it was practically blood in the water for them. Just as they were about to rush over to his area of the ice, however, Adam felt a hockey stick poking him in the side; a quick glance showed that Hans was offering him his.

Adam smiled as he accepted the piece of equipment. A defenseman is more valuable in a penalty killing situation than a forward, and Hans knew this, hence the willingness to loan Adam his stick. It was just in time too, as one of the other team's defensemen tried to make a pass to a winger who had been standing near Adam. Normally this would be a reckless pass, but seeing as Adam didn't have a hockey stick, he assumed he could make it. Unfortunately for him, Adam suddenly had a hockey stick.

He stole the puck and flipped it out of the zone.

As soon as the puck was sent down the ice, all of the Ice Harvesters made their way to the bench, as the second penalty killing unit relieved them. As Adam sat down on the bench, he handed the hockey stick back to Hans. Hans looked at him and nodded as he accepted it.

 _"You know, we didn't even score there, but it almost feels like an assist. Cool."_

* * *

When the horn for the first intermission sounded, the score was still deadlocked at 0-0. Neither team took another penalty for the remainder of the period, but there were some good scoring chances on both sides. Still, nobody was able to capitalize. Adam had a wide open shot at one point, but he missed the net. You know what they say, old habits die hard.

As everyone streamed into the locker room, a few conversations started up amongst the players. With nothing better to do, Adam walked over to Kristoff who was sitting in his locker stall, staring down at the floor.

"You holding up?" asked Adam as he took a seat next to the blond.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I'll tell you what, though, it's different."

"How so?"

Kristoff looked at Adam like he was a babbling idiot. "Well, for starters, I'm the COACH."

Adam cut him off. "Yeah, yeah, I mean besides that! Jeez, learn to recognize a joke."

Kristoff chuckled a little. "Anyways, aside from that, things just have a different atmosphere now. Even though he may not have been particularly good as his job, Coach Quinn was still here before all of us. He's basically been almost like the anchor that's always been with the team, and now he's gone. Things are definitely gonna change around here."

Adam shook his head a little. "I can't really speak about what things were like before, considering he was my coach for exactly one game. But come on, I'm willing to guess things weren't all happy harry hunky dory around here when he was still around. I mean, Sven told me the team hasn't had a winning record in more than 20 years. I think it's about time for a new locker room presence, don't you?"

Kristoff looked at Adam again and smiled.

"Yeah, you're right."

* * *

As the team went out to the bench for the second period, a feeling of rising excitement seemed to be amongst them. Even though it was only the second period, a combination of the excitement from the crowd (even though it wasn't towards them) and the 0-0 score fired everyone up.

This wouldn't last for long.

Within a minute of the first face-off, the other team's defenseman made a beautiful pass to a forward who had been lurking in center ice, giving him an open breakaway.

He put it away to make the score 1-0 in favor of the home team.

Even though he wasn't on the ice for the goal, the crowd reaction certainly startled Adam, and he could tell he wasn't alone when he looked down at his teammates faces. Between the obnoxious goal horn, the sounds coming from the players on the ice and the crowd cheering, the noise felt like it was deafening.

 _"Yep, we've got a game now."_

Adam was about to reassure the team with his usual speech whenever the other team scored a goal, but Kristoff beat him to it.

"Alright boys, c'mon, we're down by one. We can get that back, and even more. Let's go!" he yelled as the players on the ice skated towards the bench during the stoppage. Adam was once again very impressed with Kristoff's show in leadership; he was taking the initiative and trying to fire the team up. _"Hell, that's more than what I could ever say for Co... Mr. Quinn."_

After that goal given up almost immediately at the beginning of the period, things calmed down a bit. For the most part, both teams played a very solid defensive game, with most of the play happening at center ice. Adam didn't play very much, but he was perfectly okay with this, as the team needed a spark of offense, and he wasn't exactly the go to guy to provide that. You could say Adam was almost a like a closer; he wasn't supposed to get his team the lead, but he was supposed to protect a lead with his life.

When the second period ended, the score still sat at 1-0. Nobody really got a good scoring chance on either side after the first minute or so, as solid defense became the name of the game. Try as they might, the Ice Harvester's just couldn't break through.

As everyone filed into the locker room, the atmosphere was a little more tense than it had been in the previous break. Nobody was panicking, as everyone played well after that little lapse in the beginning of the period, but it all boiled down to the scoreboard, and they were trailing. They had to at least tie the game.

As the timer ticked down to 0, everyone headed through the tunnel for the final period of the game. Everyone settled on the bench, the starters headed out to the ice, and the ref blew his whistle for the face-off. Adam smiled.

 _"It's crunch time now."_

* * *

As the puck was cleared out of the zone, Sven looked at the clock on the jumbotron; it clearly read there were nine minutes left in the period. Frowning a little underneath his goalie mask, Sven lightly tapped both of his pads with his stick, as he always did in the last few minutes of the game. His team still hadn't tied the game, and another goal by the opposition would basically put this contest in the books. It was do or die time.

No sooner had this crossed Sven's mind when he looked up the ice and was greeted by a 5 on 5 situation. As the other team entered the zone, the Ice Harvester's starting goalie put himself in position, ready to make a butterfly save. Before a shot was fired, however, a rather enormous looking forward skated to the front of the net and blocked his field of vision; he was setting a screen, blinding Sven from tracking the puck.

"Ugh, get out of here! KRISTOFF, get this guy away from the net!" he yelled as he tried to look at the puck, a task made very difficult by this player's gigantic frame.

Kristoff did as his friend asked, trying to bump the forward away without doing so too aggressively; to recklessly his him away could result in an interference penalty. It certainly wasn't easy, however, considering how big this guy was.

As the battle in front of the net ensued, Adam, up at the blue line, squared up with the puck carrier, ready to block a shot. He made it obvious he was preparing for a block, as it was actually a trick; he was really preparing to swat away a pass he was expecting this guy to make. Much to his surprise, however, the other player instead beamed up a wrist shot, rather than making what should have been the smarter and more obvious play, the pass. He must have expected Adam to expect a pass he expected him to make. Expectations.

The shot moved to the net, down low towards the left corer. It somehow managed to get past both Kristoff and the other boy, both of whom were still fighting for position at the front of the crease, but the pad of Sven stopped it cold.

As soon as he felt the puck hit his equipment, Sven swatted the puck away to his left, where it managed to find its way onto Olaf's tape. As the small boy skated out of the zone and up the ice to lead the attack, Sven gave himself an imaginary pat on the back.

 _"I didn't even see that puck, and I still saved it. Maybe I have a sixth sense or something."_

* * *

For the next seven minutes, the Ice Harvesters were completely shut out, as they couldn't even manage a shot on net. The bench was beginning to grow restless; there were only two minutes left. A few sets of eyes began to find their way towards Kristoff, who sat on the bench with a look of annoyance. Despite his best attempts to put up a brave front, Adan could tell he was also growing nervous.

As thirty more seconds passed by, the whistle from the ref blew, indicating a face-off in the offensive zone. As soon as play stopped, Kristoff stepped out onto the ice. As he did so, he signaled Sven to come to the bench; he was pulling the goalie for a 6th attacker.

Pulling the goalie was a very risky move at this stage in the game. While they would have a numerical advantage in forwards on the ice, the obvious drawback was the net was completely exposed. If the other team managed to fire a well placed shot down the ice, they could easily pot a second goal to put the game firmly out of reach. Still, it was a decision had to be made.

As he lined up for the face-off, Kristoff looked around at who was on the ice. Adam was on the bench, as he wouldn't really be any help in this scenario. All of the best scoring options were on the ice, with the forwards consisting of Hans, Olaf, and the Green Line, with Kristoff being the only defenseman.

As the puck dropped, the face-off was cleanly won by Dimitri, with the puck trickling back to Kristoff at the blue lie. 1:28 remaining.

As Kristoff looked around for a passing option, he saw everyone on the other team constantly shifting around their defensive assignments. Cursing to himself, Kristoff fired a pass to Hans, who tried to skate up the side boards, only to be stopped by the defensemen on the other team. Hans quickly passed the puck back to Kristoff, having just barely avoided the waiting hockey sticks of the other team. 1:10 remaining.

Kristoff again quietly cursed under his breath; they were wasting precious time. Deciding to take matters into his own hands, Kristoff skated up a little, in an attempt to make the defense back off. It worked, as every fell back towards their goalie a little. 1:02 remaining.

As everyone broke off their defensive formation a bit, Kristoff found an open Dimitri, whom he passed the puck to. As soon as he received it, however, Dimitri immediately bumped the puck to Olaf, who was lurking behind the net, Wasting no time, the little man attempted to wrap the puck around the post and into the net. Unfortunately, the goalie had predicted this, and he already had his skate in position. 0:58 remaining.

As he made the save, however, the puck trickled to the front of the net. As soon as he saw it, Olaf immediately rushed it, as did two of the defensemen on the other team. Dimitri and Hans also joined the scrum, with all three of the Ice Harvesters desperately trying to force the puck into the net. Time ticked down as this went on, with 20 more seconds being eaten up before the goalie was finally able to cover it with his glove.

Kristoff's breathing slowed. With only 0:38 seconds remaining, they would have to get the next shot off quickly. If they lost the face-off, it was a pretty safe bet to call the game over.

The next sequence happened in a flash.

Dimitri lost the face-off. To the eternal amazement of everyone who saw it, however, Olaf managed to lift the stick of the opposing player who got the puck _and_ he also managed to get a shot on net, all in succession.

The goalie didn't have enough time to react. Olaf had been shoved away from the net as soon as he shot the puck, but it was too late. He had scored, right through the five hole. 0:29 seconds remaining.

As his teammates embraced on the ice, Adam was the first one up on the bench, raising both his hands and being the first to offer fist bumps. Sure, they hadn't _won_ the game, but they tied it in the most dramatic fashion possible. And that was certainly worth celebrating; they had been bottling it up the whole game, after all.

After a minute or two, the game was ready to resume again. Sven was obviously put back in goal; they no longer urgently needed a goal, so there was no point in leaving the cage empty. Adam was also put back out with Kristoff, as it was still theoretically possible to give up a goal, although it seemed unlikely with a center ice face-off with twenty nine seconds remaining.

As soon as the puck dropped, the face-off found its way to Adam. Despite attempts to move the puck up the ice, they were never really able to get it into the offensive zone. Finally, the horn sounded, signaling the end of the third period. For the second straight game, the Ice Harvesters were going to overtime.

There's no intermission between the third period and OT, so both teams lined up for the face-off almost immediately. Adam was thankful for this, as it meant the momentum they built from the goal would still be going strong.

For the first few minutes of overtime, things reverted back to the way the game was being played throughout most of the second period: sound defense with little offense on both sides. Despite the heightened offensive aggression coming from the defensemen on both sides (as both teams desperately wanted to seal the game quickly), neither team was giving an inch. It would take a breakthrough to really get the ball rolling.

And that breakthrough did occur. But not for the Ice Harvesters.

About two minutes into the period, Adam tried to glove down a puck that had found its way into the air from an errant slapshot that hit a stick blade. As he did so, however, he foolishly bumped into the player next to him, sending the guy sprawling to the ice. Adam was praying it was one of his teammates, but to his horror, it was an opposing player.

The whistle blew. He was being called for interference.

Kristoff pursed his lips as the referee announced the penalty to the raucous crowd. They had to kill a penalty, in overtime. As if that wasn't bad enough, the player being sent to the box was their best shutdown defender, the guy who practically killed penalties _by himself._

 _"Well then. It's gonna take a team effort to kill this one off._ _"_

 _..._

 _"Let's go."_

Kristoff took his position behind the forwards for the face-off. He kept a keen eye on the puck; there was a very real possibility they may attempt a shot right off the draw. Thankfully, Dimitri was able to win the face-off, preventing them from executing whatever their plan was, in addition to giving Kristoff an easy opportunity to clear the puck down the ice.

As the puck made its way down the playing surface, everyone stayed behind to prepare for another defensive assignment. Sure enough, the other team began to bring the puck up as quickly as they could as soon as they gained possession, in an attempt to overwhelm them. Their attack broke down, however, as a badly placed pass found its way right to Kristoff.

"HEY! LET'S PLAY A LITTLE KEEP AWAY, HUH?" yelled Kristoff as he gained the puck, flipping it over to Hans. Hans then immediately passed to Dimitri, who in turn passed back to Kristoff in a triangle like formation.

Adam couldn't help but smile at his team's antics. It was almost childish, but it was taking time off the clock, time that he had to spend in the penalty box.

Just as the other team switched lines and regrouped to regain possession, Hans fired a very slow pass to center ice. Kristoff was about to question what he was doing when his eyes grew wide; Adam had just stepped out of the penalty box.

An enormous grin spread across his face as soon as he saw the play. Hans just delivered a perfect pass to Adam, who had just gotten out of the sin bin, giving him a breakaway.

Adam picked up the puck and sped as fast he could towards the goalie. He knew he had no stick moves he could pull off to deceive him, but perhaps sheer athleticism would create an opening.

As soon as he got close to the net, he fired a forehand shot.

He thought he had scored for a brief second. But, as fate would have it, the goalie had it stuck in his jersey, just underneath the arm. The ref blew his whistle, signaling no goal. The crowd roared in approval.

Adam shook his head as he made his way to the bench. That was the second time in as many games he should've capitalized on a scoring chance, only to fail.

 _"Guess I gotta practice more or something. Eh."_

For the next few minutes, play stagnated yet again, with both teams locking into defense. Time was running out; there were only about two minutes remaining in the overtime. If nobody scored, the game would be called a draw.

Adam watched what was going on from the bench. If anyone was nervous, they weren't showing it; now wasn't the time for weakness.

Eventually, with only a minute or two left in the overtime, Kristoff signaled for Adam to join him on the ice for one last push. This confused the Minnesota native, as it made more sense to get someone with more offensive skill for a last minute drive, rather than himself. Suddenly, it dawned on him; Kristoff wasn't interested in winning the game, he was only trying to secure the tie.

Adam was a little disappointed, but he understood the decision; Kristoff had told him a few storied about reckless offensive drives the team had done in the past that resulted in them getting burned in their own end. Adam figured Kristoff didn't want to risk going down that route.

It was a good thing he did so, as the other team did something unprecedented: they _pulled their goalie._

This was completely unheard of to Adam. The only time he had ever seen a coach pull their goalie was so they could get an extra attacker on the ice for a potential tying goal, no exceptions. Pulling the netminder so they _might_ score an OT goal was borderline suicidal, if the other team got the puck.

As Adam looked at the clock, however, he could see that there were only about twenty seconds remaining. Now it made just a little more sense; even if one of the Ice Harvesters were able to get the puck, they probably wouldn't have enough time to send it down to the empty net.

The next sequence, like the tying goal, happened in a blur.

The other team brought the puck into the zone. After a couple quick passes, the right winger (or center, Adam couldn't tell) had a wide open shot at the net. Sven wouldn't have been able to cover the open space in time. If this shot was accurate, it was almost certainly a goal.

Adam was already on the way there.

With one last burst of speed, Adam practically slid down to the ice, in a desperate attempt to block the shot. He only just got there, feeling it carom off his skate blade.

 _"Please don't go on net."_

The puck sailed right above the crossbar. It hit the glass just as the horn rang out through the arena, resulting in a collective groan of disappointment from the audience.

Adam collided into the boards, as he had lost control after making the game saving block. Worry painted the faces of his teammates as they saw him hit the boards, but they soon turned to smiles as they saw the boy stand up, on his own power.

As soon as he was on his own two feet, he nodded to Sven. He was trying to hide it, but a small grin began to form on his face.

Sven nodded his head as well. He also smiled, underneath his goalie mask.

* * *

"So that shot really would have gone in, huh?"

"Probably. I pretty much saved the game."

"No way, I saved the game!"

Adam, Kristoff, Sven, and Olaf were standing in front of the arena, waiting for their parents to pick them up. They were currently in a rather lengthy discussion about the game they just played.

"Yeah, you're right, Olaf. You did save the game with that tying goal," said Adam, looking down at the smaller boy.

A smug grin appeared on Olaf's face. "That's right. But thanks for the recognition," he said as he began to laugh.

Adam couldn't help but chuckle too. "You're welcome."

"So, Kristoff, how about you? How was your first, and probably only game as coach?" asked Sven.

Kristoff shook his head a little and turned to his left to look at Sven. He clearly hadn't been paying attention to what they were talking about.

"Huh? Oh yeah, my first game as coach. It was cool, I guess. But I'm almost disappointed."

Adam couldn't understand why. "How so?"

"I mean, I wanted to win. We didn't."

"Hey, be reasonable, we tied. That's still pretty good. And it was on a great play at the end of the third, it might as well have been a miracle!" said Olaf.

Kristoff smiled a little bit at this. "Yeah, I guess you're right. I'll take the tie over a loss any day of the year. Still, it would've been nice to come out with the victory."

"We're lucky to even have a tie on our hands. We almost lost it in that overtime," said Adam.

Kristoff and Sven nodded at this, while Olaf grunted something that sounded like 'uh huh.' It was true; they still could've lost that game just as easily as they could've won it. It was almost like a compromise.

Their conversation was interrupted by a car horn. Adam turned to see who it could been, only to be met with the sight of the familiar light blue car pulling up to the curb.

"Well, that's my dad, I gotta go," said Adam as he began to walk over the car.

"Yeah, see ya," said Kristoff, with Olaf and Sven also offering similar goodbyes.

As he got into the passenger seat, Adam's dad began to pull away from the arena as his son buckled up. Once they were out of the parking lot and onto the road, he asked "Well, how did the game go?"

Adam didn't move his head from the window he was looking out of. "We tied."

"Well, a tie is better than a loss, as I've always said. Well, as I'm saying now, at least."

Adam, for however many times that day, smiled. "Yeah, you're right."

* * *

 **And there we go. I'd say this chapter's run on long enough.**

 **I wanted to introduce the new coach during this chapter, rather than the next one, but it simply would not have worked well if I had him join the team the same day they had a game. Therefore, I figured it would be better to wait a little while longer, so I hope you don't mind. I know this player coach thing with Kristoff was a little weird, but this'll be the only time it appears in the story. It was meant to be a temporary solution for their coaching dilemma, as I purposely didn't give Mr. (can't call him coach now, can we?) Quinn any assistant coaches that could temporarily take over the mantle.**

 **Oh, and by the way: DO NOT PULL YOUR GOALIE IN OVERTIME, EVEN IF THERE'S ONLY A FEW SECONDS LEFT. I literally just added that to spice up the ending. It is quite possibly one of the dumbest coaching moves imaginable (so it's probably something Mr. Quinn would have done...).**

 **Well, that's about it, really. Be sure to tune in again, same bat time (although it seems to vary around here), same bat channel. I still haven't gotten all the Riddler trophies in Arkham Knight... sigh.**

 **Have a nice day.**


	10. Chapter 10

**How're you all doing, and welcome back to Cold Defense.**

 **Well, the only thing I have to say here is that, relatively speaking, this chapter is short. Only the first chapter is shorter than this one, so don't settle in with like a meal or something, because you'll probably finish that first, lol.**

 **Well, that's about it. On with the story.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Frozen. Never have, never will.**

Present

 _"Thoughts"_

 **Author's Note**

 _ **Flashback**_

* * *

When Adam arrived at school the next day, he wasn't really sure what to expect. He had been hoping that the team's recent play might be inspiring a little bit of interest in the hockey squad, but would that actually be the case?

In short... no. Despite the school newspaper conveniently being published that very day with the score being printed on the back in rather large text, nobody seemed to care. There was even a little piece written about how the team was improving, but Adam could tell the guy who wrote it had never watched a hockey game in his life, as he consistently mixed up the positions when describing the individual players. He even said at one point that Mr. Quinn was still coach.

After he showed the article to Kristoff, Sven, and Olaf during 1st hour, they just laughed and brushed it off, as this kind of thing was apparently common when the paper published something on the hockey team (which was rare in itself). The complete lack of interest continues.

 _"It's actually not that bad,"_ thought Adam. _"No distractions off the ice and what not, crowds mobbing every corner, autograph sessions every weekend... okay, let's be real here. None of that would happen even if we were the best team or something."_

Just as Adam wrapped up that thought, the familiar and welcomed sound of the bell rang throughout the room, signaling the time to switch to 2nd hour. Breathing a sigh of relief, Adam and co. stood up from their seats and exited the room.

As the group walked towards their next class, everyone was quiet. Kristoff, Olaf, and Sven were probably just drowsy, but Adam had a little bit on his mind.

Although it probably wasn't a good time to be doing so, considering they were walking through a crowded hallway, Adam felt himself beginning to reflect on his time thus far in Arendelle yet again. Aside from Mr. Quinn resigning as coach, things had definitely slowed down a little; he had mostly settled into a routine he followed daily. Go to school, hockey practice/game, the usual. The group project would definitely make things a little more interesting, however.

As the group entered Mr. Oaken's room, they were met with his usual piercing gaze as he sat behind the desk, the tips of his fingers touching. It was just beginning to become awkward when he spoke.

"Yoo-hoo!"

After a few jumbled greetings from Adam, Kristoff, Sven and Olaf, everyone made their way to the back of the room to get ready to work on their projects. Because Anna hadn't arrived yet, Adam and Kristoff got into a little talk about what would be happening later that day.

"So, I guess we're meeting our new coach today," said Adam as he absentmindedly tapped his fingers on the lab table.

"Yeah, I guess we are. I wonder what he'll be like?" replied Kristoff.

"Hopefully a little more agreeable than Mr. Quinn. I just hope he doesn't make us memorize a bunch of plays and stuff."

"I doubt he will, but you never know."

After a few seconds of silence, Adam decided to continue. "Hey, have you heard anything about him? Like where he's from, or even his name?"

"Nope, absolutely nothing. Not even rumors," said the blond, looking down at the floor as he leaned against the table. He was just beginning to slouch in his chair when he heard a long bang behind him, starling both himself and Adam.

After a brief moment of adrenaline, Kristoff recovered enough to see that it was Anna who had slammed her book right behind his head, and was now laughing at his misery. He was not amused.

"Was there a reason for that?" asked Kristoff. Adam nodded his head in agreement.

After a moment or two, Anna took a deep breath and spoke up. "No, but do you need one?"

Kristoff couldn't think of a counter-argument. The most excruciating part was that he would probably come up with something later, but he had nothing right now.

"True."

After that unusual greeting, the three of them got to work on their project. Unlike their study session at the house, however, the group was finding it a little hard to concentrate. After about 20 minutes of procrastinating and light conversation amongst each other, Anna decided to bring up the hockey game.

"Hey, didn't you guys have a game yesterday?"

Kristoff gave a sarcastically evil glare in her direction. "And I thought you were a fan."

Anna stared at him for a moment, not realizing he was joking. It was only when he began to laugh that she realized he was kidding.

"Now we're even," said Kristoff as his laughter slowed.

After giving a similar sarcastic glare, she smiled while giving a small giggle. "I guess you're right. Anyways, didn't you have a game yesterday?" said Anna, repeating her question.

Adam decided to take the initiative this time, giving a small nod. "Yeah, so what?"

"Did you win?"

"No, we tied. Now I can say I've never lost a game in my coaching career," said Kristoff, putting extra emphasis on the last part.

Anna looked confused. "Coaching career? What are you talking about?"

"You remember Mr. Quinn right?" said Adam.

"No."

"Well, he was the coach of the team. Was. He named Kristoff his 'temporary replacement' or something for yesterday's game," said Adam. He then broke out into laughter, trying to keep it as quiet as he could to avoid distracting the other groups. He was failing.

Anna's attention turned from the Minnesota native back to Kristoff. "Wait, so now you're the COACH? This doesn't even seem legal. I mean, you're not even 18, I think it's a job that can't really be done by a minor..." Anna's rambling was cut off as Kristoff shook his head.

"It doesn't matter. It was only for one game, and we're being introduced to our new coach today at practice."

As Kristoff finished informing her of this little nugget of information, Adam finally picked himself up from the floor and, after wiping the tears from his eyes, gave the blond a pat on the back. "Who knows, maybe he'll be a pushover and you'll be the REAL coach."

"Hilarious, but no. I'd resign first. Like someone else we know."

* * *

After Mr. Oaken's class, the rest of the day just seemed to fly by. Adam and Elsa kept annoying each other in 3rd hour (something they now had a tendency to do, all in good fun of course), a 'hearty healthy' lunch with the rest of the group, the works.

Until gym.

It started out routine. Change into gym uniform and skates. Sign in on the attendance sheet. Sit around and wait for the teacher. Nothing seemed different.

Well, things had been just a _little_ different recently. The most glaring change was that Mr. Quinn hadn't been in class for the past week or so, with a different substitute filling in every day he had been absent. Actually, it matched up almost perfectly with when he resigned as the coach. _"Something's going on,"_ thought Adam.

Still, he didn't think much of it. Unless Mr. Quinn miraculously returned to class today (and Adam was seriously starting to doubt he would return at all), they'd have yet another sub. Sure enough, a rather tall man dressed completely in athletic wear made his way onto the ice just as this thought crossed Adam's mind. Giving a small sigh, Adam stood up from his chair and made his way to the surface of the ice. As he got another look at this teacher's face, however, he stopped.

Adam couldn't quite put his finger on it, but this guy seemed... familiar. It wasn't anyone from the U.S. or something, but it felt like he had seen this guy before.

And then it dawned on him.

It was after hockey practice, specifically the day he had learned he would be playing his first game of the season. Adam was sitting on a bench, waiting for his father to come pick him up when he saw some guy in an expensive looking suit walk into the school. Adam assumed he was a member of the school board or something, so he thought nothing of it.

And yet, here he was. He was either just another substitute in what felt like a never ending line of them, or something else was going on.

As everyone lined up on the blue line, the teacher began calling out names. When he finished running through his attendance list, he lowered his clipboard and looked over his students.

"Good morning. My name is Mr. Crane, and I'll be your teacher for today."

Adam perked up a little. The first thing he noticed was that this guy had no trace of an accent, which basically revealed that he wasn't from around here. In addition, none of the teachers thus far had really bothered to introduce themselves. A million possibilities were swimming around in Adam's head when it became apparent that Mr. Crane wasn't done talking.

"Actually, by today, I really mean the rest of the year. Your previous teacher, Mr. Quinn, has retired."

This announcement was met by a large amount of mumbling and quiet conversations amongst the class. It was a little odd how Mr. Quinn hadn't been around recently, especially considering how they had kinda been in the dark about where he was, but none of them had been expecting him to just pack it up and leave, Adam included.

Shaking his head a little, Adam nudged Kristoff, gaining his attention.

"So, I guess it wasn't enough that he resigned as coach. He's _retiring?"_

Kristoff shook his head as well. "I had no idea he was leaving his post as gym teacher in addition to the hockey gig. I guess they also needed to find a new teacher before they could let him leave as well."

Adam responded by staring forward at the glass surrounding the ice rink. A few moments of relative peace passed by before a crazy theory popped up in his head.

 _"Hold on. A new gym teacher being introduced the same day we're having a new hockey coach introduced at practice?_

 _... It can't be a coincidence."_

* * *

As the final bell of the school day rang throughout the halls, Adam got up from his desk and started his trek to the ice rink with just a little more energy than usual. Normally, he wouldn't be that excited, considering we're just talkin' 'bout practice, but today's practice was special. The reason why was fairly obvious.

As Adam approached the locker room entrance, he couldn't help but have a thrilled look on his face; if his hunch was correct, he already knew who the new coach was, even though the only thing he really knew about him was his name (he didn't talk much about himself in gym).

When he entered the locker room, the first thing Adam did was to make a beeline to the coach's office, rather than his locker stall, just to see if someone was there. The door to the room was wide open, but nobody was around. Adam was a little disappointed, but it was fine. It meant he was either already out on the ice or he hadn't arrived yet. The truth would be revealed soon.

Just why was Adam so pumped up to see the new coach? Well...

* * *

 ** _When half of the time allotted to gym had passed by, Mr. Crane blew his whistle, signaling time for the boys and girls to switch. As Kristoff and Adam took their seats up in the stands, the Minnesota native spoke up._**

 ** _"Hey, Kristoff," said Adam._**

 ** _"What?"_**

 ** _Adam smiled a little. "Let's make a bet."_**

 ** _Kristoff raised an eyebrow. "A bet? On what?"_**

 ** _"Our new gym teacher. I'll bet you twenty dollars he's our new hockey coach as well."_**

 ** _It was Kristoff's turn to smile. "You 'bet'. Pun intended. But there's one problem."_**

 ** _"Oh yeah? And what's that, the fact that you're gonna lose?"_**

 ** _"No, you can't use dollars here in Arendelle."_**

 ** _Adam's expression changed from smile to poker face._**

 ** _"We'll figure it out later."_**

* * *

"... stupid currency exchange garbage, where am I gonna get the money you can actually use here if I lose? Heh, except I'm not gonna lose..."

"What are you mumbling about?"

Adam's head snapped up. He _had_ been in the process of quietly complaining to himself with his head down, as he assumed nobody was on the ice yet, but apparently that wasn't the case anymore. At least it was only Hans and a few other people.

"Nothing."

After a couple minutes of silently skating, most of the team was on the ice, Kristoff included. The atmosphere was tense; everyone was clearly eager to see who this coach would be.

Finally, after a few more minutes, a whistle sounded from near the entrance to the locker room. "Alright, listen up!"

Adam and Kristoff both grinned in anticipation.

The shadows of the locker room tunnel covered his face. He approached the ice. Slowly.

Slowly.

Finally, he took another step forward. Into the light.

His face became visible to all!

It was...

...

IT WAS...

Mr. Crane.

Adam grin became a smug, toothy smile, as if he was gloating (which was probably exactly what he was doing). Kristoff's face fell.

 _"Called it."_

Adam's moment of victory was cut short by the whistle again. After the arena fell silent again, Coach Crane began to speak.

"Welcome, welcome. For those of you who don't have me for gym, my name is Mr. Crane. You can call me coach or whatever, it doesn't really matter, though my nickname is just 'the Crane.'"

Adam couldn't resist. "Why do they call you that?"

"It works."

Adam didn't respond. You can't argue logic.

Coach Crane cleared his throat. "Moving on, I understand I'm replacing someone else mid-season, a Mr. Quinn. Is that right?" He was met with a few nodding heads.

"Okay. I'm willing to guess a few of you may be worried that you're gonna have to learn a ton of new strategies, a new playbook, etc."

Adam's grip on his hockey stick tightened.

"Well, we're not gonna do that. I've studied what your previous coach left behind, and I've reworked some of his strategy. Much of what we'll be learning will be very familiar," said Coach Crane. A few sighs of relief could be heard various spots around the group, Adam included. The team was on a little bit of a roll recently, and completely overhauling how they were supposed to play would only serve as a detriment.

Coach Crane continued. "However, I've looked over some of the details, and there are definitely some flaws. The first, and most glaring, is the defense. Based on the box score alone, it's played better recently, but it doesn't take a detective to notice that it isn't exactly functioning up to par."

Adam smiled. He liked this new coach already.

"Well, I've got news for you. Winning hockey games doesn't happen on one end. It takes a _complete effort_ , one hundred percent dedication on offense, but also defense. I can't tell you how many great hockey teams have been derailed due to defensive problems."

After giving a moment of silence to allow this to resonate with his new team, Coach Crane resumed. "Therefore, we're gonna implement a few changes around here. The key component to a good team is having a good culture. A team with flaws in its game plan is never going to go anywhere, and it's my job as a coach to iron these out."

A few of the players started to look worried. Was this guy just going to be one of those trainer type guys that drives you way to far with no regard of your actual limit?

"Because of this, we're going to put extra emphasis on defense. Both in practices and in games, the work ethic of the team needs a complete U turn. Offense is obviously important too, but there's a saying that I've found to be very helpful: 'offense wins games, defense wins championships.'"

Adam had to admit that this new coach was ambitious. He was coming in with a game plan all mapped out, but it didn't seem like he had any idea just how talented (or not talented) the personnel he had to work with were. Could the team be realistically expected to make these visions into reality?

Coach Crane still wasn't done. "Now, obviously I don't really know your individual skill sets, so there are gonna be a few speed bumps along the way. But I can assure you that I've seen, and been at the helm, of many mid-season turnarounds in the past, and there's no reason we can't do that here as well. Seeing as how you've apparently improved your record to 1-1-3 after starting the year with three straight losses, I can tell that the desire to win is very real. It's just about acting on it."

When he finished his lengthy speech, Coach Crane took a deep breath. After quickly looking over his new team, who still had their attention fixated on him, Coach Crane spoke up yet again.

"Now then, I suppose some introductions are in order. As I've already told you, my name is Mr. Crane. My first name is for me to know, and for you to discover."

Adam couldn't help but chuckle a little. It seemed like he had a sense of humor, unlike Mr. Quinn.

"I was born in Newark, New Jersey, in the United States, but I moved to Arendelle about ten years ago. Because I've given you a time on when I first started living here, I guess it's only fair to tell you I'm 35 years old. Some of my interests... I can't say I have any besides coaching and teaching that I've pursued for more than a few weeks."

Nobody said anything. It felt like this guy was pretty much laying down his autobiography.

"I'm currently in the process of writing my autobiography. I've written about 799 words, so it's going pretty well, I'd say. So, would anyone else like to share anything?"

Coach Crane had barely finished speaking when Olaf excitedly raised his hand. This surprised Adam; the anticipation from the bet he made with Kristoff caused him to completely forget the smaller boy (or Sven for that matter) was even here.

"Hi, my name is Olaf! I'm short. I also play forward, just in case you didn't know. I like hugs!"

"You probably won't receive any from me."

"I like them when I get them from my teammates after I blast a shot into the net."

A small smile appeared on Coach Crane's face. "I see. Very good. Be sure to get a lot of hugs. Anyone else?"

Olaf's willingness to introduce himself apparently inspired a little confidence amongst Adam's teammates, as Hans was the next one to volunteer.

"Hey. Yeah, over here. My name is Hans Westergaard. I'm also a forward, but I can play in pretty much any scenario you need."

"Duly noted. Every good team has a utility man. Next."

Adam figured it was his turn. He raised his hand.

"Yeah, you with the 4."

"My name is Adam. Adam Nolan. I play defense. Lots of defense."

"I like your style."

Adam smiled.

"Thanks."

* * *

After introductions (everyone decided to give one, although some were longer than others), the team finally got to practicing. They did a few new drills, mostly aimed at improving agility and endurance, but everything else was pretty much identical to what they had been doing in the past. Finally, Coach Crane blew his whistle.

"Alright, I'd say that's enough. You guys have an off day tomorrow, but we have a game on Friday. It's here at home, so report back around 5:00 PM. You can all go home now. Or not. I really don't care."

Coach Crane skated off the ice and into the locker room. A few people stayed behind, but most of the team followed, Olaf, Kristoff, Sven, and Adam included.

When they were changed out of their hockey equipment and into their normal clothes again, the group headed out of the locker room and into the school hallway. Adam figured it was a good time to strike up a conversation.

"So, the new coach. What do you think?"

"He's a little goofy, but I like him. He kinda has a sarcastic personality, but not overly so, you know what I mean?" said Kristoff.

"Yeah, but at least he _has_ a personality. Mr. Quinn was like a mindless drone," piped in Sven.

"True."

After a few moments, Kristoff continued. "Anyways, what do you guys think about his coaching?"

Adam wasn't exactly sure what he was getting at. "His coaching?"

"Yeah, you know, like how he wants more defense and stuff."

"I'm not a fan. I think offense drives the team," said Olaf.

"The extra protection would be nice," said Sven.

"I can't wait," said Adam.

"Of course you can't."

When they reached the end of the hallway, the group pulled the doors to the school open, leading out into the spacious parking lot. Olaf and Sven walked to school, so they said their goodbyes. Adam and Kristoff, after texting their parents to pick them up, continued where they left off.

"You know, I think he's right about all of his 'culture change' stuff," said Kristoff.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I mean, let's be honest. You're new around here, but the only thing we've really known since freshman year here is losing. By this point, it can't possibly get any worse. Switching things up is probably for the best."

Adam nodded in agreement. "It's like he said, things need to change around here. Hopefully this guy is able to bring them."

Once they wrapped up that topic of conversation, the two of them began to discuss various things that had been going on in their lives, including speculation on what Coach Crane's first name was. Adam liked the sound of 'Jonathan', while Kristoff seemed oddly fixated on Bartholomew. Either way, they didn't know for sure.

After about fifteen minutes, Adam's father pulled up in his car to the school curb. The Minnesota native made his way to the vehicle and opened the door, only to stop and turn around.

"Oh, and you owe me twenty... whatever they use here in Arendelle. I still don't really know."

* * *

 **And cut.**

 **Like I said earlier, I really only wanted to introduce the coach this chapter, which is why this chapter is so short. I'm sure he'll be more agreeable than Mr. Quinn, however, so he'll be a more entertaining character.**

 **The name of the coach, Crane, literally comes from the real name of the Scarecrow from Batman, Jonathan Crane. The reason I decided this was because I was playing Batman: Arkham Knight, and I was struggling to come up with a name for the coach, so I just decided to call him Crane, after the Scarecrow. Yeah. Don't worry, his first name in this story that may someday be revealed will not be Jonathan (sorry, Adam), and he's certainly not an evil villain that tortures his victims by forcing them to live their worst nightmares through his fear toxin. Yee.**

 **Oh yes, and I also have now collected the Riddler trophies. All the Riddler trophies. Okay, enough Batman.**

 **Actually, that's about enough from this author's note, too.**

 **Have a nice day.**


	11. Chapter 11

**How're y'all (I don't have a southern accent, but I couldn't resist) doing, and welcome back to Cold Defense.**

 **GASP! The scrub who writes this story is alive! Yes I am. The reason for my rather extended absence is we had relatives over this past week. I thought I would have time to write a new chapter while they were here, which is why I didn't include this information in the previous author's note, but it just didn't happen. (I actually only began writing this chapter yesterday. That 24 hour writing process thing just doesn't happen anymore.)  
**

 **However, there's a bigger reason why this chapter took so long, and why future chapters will, to be frank, also take longer than normal: school's started again. The enemy of free time. Nevertheless, when things really get going in the next few weeks or so, I simply won't have nearly as much time to write as I used to during the summer. I'm hoping to cap the maximum amount of time it takes to release a new chapter at two weeks, but I can't really guarantee that. I can guarantee, however, that this story will keep on chgguin'. I've said this a million times, and I'll say it a million times more. Yes.**

 **Well, enough of reading about my "problems" (if you can call them that, lol). On with the story.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Frozen. Never have, never will.**

Present

 _"Thoughts"_

 **Author's Note**

 _ **Flashback**_ **(this is used pretty heavily throughout this chapter)**

* * *

As Adam walked down the somewhat familiar road in the somewhat familiar neighborhood, he took a few glances around him. Just like the street that was directly ahead of him, everything looked... a little familiar. Not overly so, but it wasn't like he was completely lost. After all, he had been here before, even though it was only one time.

 _"Let's see, if I remember correctly, it's about three blocks down. Or is it two. Actually I may need to take a right, or it might even be a left through that..."_

Adam's impatience with himself continued to grow as the thought that developed in his mind ran on and on and on. Finally, with his frustration getting the best of him, he let out an exasperated yell. He sincerely hoped nobody had their children outside and within earshot.

"Where am I again?"

* * *

 _ **The day started like normal.  
**_

 ** _Adam woke up._**

 ** _Adam got ready for school._**

 ** _Adam was driven to school._**

 ** _Adam slogged through first hour. Like normal._**

 ** _It wasn't until second hour when the usual monotony was broken up._**

 ** _Adam, Kristoff, and Anna were sitting around their lab table, working on their collective project. Actually, working is a bit of a stretch; they were mainly sitting around and doing nothing. Throughout this entire experience, it felt like they were making steady progress in their work, but it seemed endless. For every piece of the project they completed, it what as if two more rose from the grave to take its place._**

 ** _Finally, with only a few minutes remaining in class, the group's conversation about the meaning of life (which was stuck in a rut anyways) was cut short by Mr. Oaken's familiar "Yoo-hoo!" and incessant clapping for a solid fifteen seconds. The signal to pack up._**

 ** _As the three of them got up from their chairs, Anna looked at Adam and Kristoff._**

 ** _"Hey, you wanna come over and work on this project some more today?"_**

 ** _Kristoff shrugged. "Sure."_**

* * *

Adam really thought he could do it. He was completely confident in his ability to remember the exact route he took to get to their house the first time. And to be fair, he was already about 85% of the way there.

Unfortunately, anything less than 100% would be unacceptable.

Still in a small state of panic and anger, Adam fumbled for his phone in his pocket. He would have to take the cop out, the very thing he hoped to avoid.

After opening up his trusty map app **(rhyme)** and entering the address that was on the little slip of paper he managed to dig out of his backpack after more than ten minutes of searching, he was given a route he could take based on his precise location. Technology.

This fortunately never happened, but if anyone had been walking the opposite direction on the same sidewalk as Adam, they most assuredly would have been trampled over had they not moved out of his way. The Minnesota native was so fixated on his phone screen, he completely failed to notice anything around him. That included someone yelling his name from a moving car window on a street a fair distance away.

It wasn't as if the car was right next to him or something. He kinda just assumed that they were trying to signal someone else. After all, who around here besides the obvious knew Adam?

Finally, after a few minutes of intensely following directions, he came up to the somewhat familiar front entrance of the Samuelsson household. Unlike last time, however, Adam had no hesitations.

He walked up to the door. Rather than using the doorbell like last time, he decided to be 'sophisticated' and knock. Why not?

A minute passed. Nobody answered. He used the doorbell.

After another minute or two, the door finally swung open, revealing Anna. Rather than a casual greeting, however, she almost looked angry.

"Didn't you hear me yell your name a few minutes ago?"

So someone was yelling for him. Adam wasn't sure if he should lie or not. He decided to go with the little devil on his right shoulder.

"No."

"Well, I yelled your name from our car. I saw you staring at your phone."

Adam inwardly gave the most sarcastic grin he could think of. "I was looking up directions. Again. Hey, at least I got here quicker than last time."

Anna's angry stare gave way to a small laugh. "True. Come on in."

As the redhead moved out of the doorframe and towards the basement, Adam stepped inside the large home and took a look around; essentially nothing had changed.

 _"That's fine,"_ thought Adam. " _Familiarity is a good thing."_

Once he reached the entrance to the basement, Adam strained to hear if Kristoff had beaten him to the house again. The telltale sign would be he and Anna either talking or arguing about something, but no such conversation seemed to be present. He did hear what sounded like NHL being played on the PS4 downstairs, so he assumed Anna had just started a game when he arrived at the house.

When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he found he was wrong. It was Elsa playing, not Anna.

She didn't even bother to look up from the screen. "Hey, Adam."

Adam wasn't entirely sure what to say. Last time he was here, things were just a little... different.

"Uh... what are you doing?"

Adam mentally cringed at how bad that sounded. He was met with a confused look from the blonde, who finally looked away from the screen for a second.

"What are you talking about?"

Adam fumbled for a reply. "Uh, what I, no, what I should've... ugh. What I meant was, why are you playing this? I thought you said you didn't like video games."

 _"Better."_ Adam gave himself a mental handshake.

"I don't. Except for this one. I've been hooked since we played that one day. It's fun."

Adam nodded. "...Yeah. Anyway, I gotta go work on the project."

"Have fun."

Adam knew she was being sarcastic. He smiled.

 _"Well, I guess we can throw familiarity out the window."_

* * *

The next two hours went by fairly quickly. Kristoff joined them not long after Adam, and progress on their work seemed to go quicker than it typically did during the school day. Elsa eventually went upstairs, leaving the three of them by themselves.

Finally, after putting the finishing touches on the paper he was writing, Adam wiped his forehead. (He wasn't actually sweating, but that's what you usually do when you're finished after working hard.)

"You know, this project is insane."

Kristoff raised his hands in mock praise. "Finally, someone said it. Seriously, this is ridiculous."

"Well, he said it would be worth about 50% of our final grade, if you actually paid attention," said Anna, smirking. She just couldn't resist the chance to one-up the blond.

Kristoff (jokingly) slammed his hands on the table. He was trying his hardest to suppress a smile, but he was failing.

"You know what?"

Anna also slammed her hands on the table. "What?"

Adam just gave a small smile, rolled his eyes, and began to walk away. Barring a Dramatic Turn of Events, it looked like they would be getting into another of their 'arguments.'

It was really to be expected by now. Although Adam probably wouldn't be able to extract an audible confession from either of them if he tried, Kristoff and Anna were becoming very good friends. In fact, they were probably already there; after all, they practically got off on the right foot right off the bat.

Actually, if you were to be completely 100% honest, Adam was certain that they were moving past even that. It reminded him of a conversation he had with Sven about their friend...

* * *

 _ **Adam was sitting. In the library, to be precise. Actually, to be extremely precise, in the little room leading to the library.**_

 _ **It was lunch hour. Under normal circumstances, he'd be enjoying himself, chumming it up with his friends and what not. Unfortunately, these were not normal circumstances. On the contrary, he wasn't having any fun at all.**_

 _ **It all started during his sixth hour class yesterday. To make a somewhat long story short, a paper was set to be due the next day. It was worth more points than any of the other assignments in that class thus far, so it wasn't something he could simply afford to do badly on.**_

 _ **And he did type it.**_

 _ **It wasn't exactly easy. Seeing how his family didn't have a computer (not even a laptop), he had to do the entire thing on his phone. Thank God for Google Drive. Ideally, he would've typed it in one of the school's computer labs or something, but considering he had hockey practice or the group project every day after school, there was never any time. The only time he had to even type the paper on his phone was around 11:00 PM, after whatever he had been doing that day. It took a week's worth of effort to finally put together something presentable.**_

 _ **So to summarize, he typed the whole paper on mobile. Not an easy feat, but he did it. Now the problem was submitting the assignment.**_

 _ **Oh, he begged. He begged his teacher to let him email it to her. Well, he didn't beg in the traditional sense of the word, but you get the idea. It didn't matter in any event, as all of his requests were met with a big, clear as crystal, blunt final, no talking back, sorry out of luck no.**_

 ** _"No. You have to submit it as a paper."_**

 ** _At least she had the courtesy of pointing out how he could print it in the school's library. It was actually a good idea, minus the fact that he would never be able to find the time to do so. When he pointed out this nugget of information, however, he was given a rather painful solution._**

 ** _"You can go down there and print it during your lunch hour."_**

 ** _So to print this assignment, he would have to miss lunch. Great._**

 ** _It wasn't the missing the friends part that bothered him. It was the not eating part. He never had breakfast on school days; being forced to skip lunch as well would be, to put it generously, excruciating._**

 ** _And that's exactly how Adam found himself sitting in a couch positioned near the front desk in the library. You had to sign in using your ID card (he actually got himself about a month ago) to gain admittance. And, as luck would have it, nobody was behind the desk to scan his card. Great._**

 ** _After a full minute of staring straight at the wall, the sound of the door opening interrupted the silence. Adam halfheartedly turned his head, expecting to see someone he didn't know, but he was very surprised to see Sven. Sven looked over at the person staring at him and caught on as well._**

 ** _"Oh, hey Adam. What're you doing here?"_**

 ** _"I'm waiting to print a paper, but nobody's here to let me sign in so I can enter the library." Adam said the last part a little louder than needed._**

 ** _"Oh. Well, I guess I gotta wait too," replied the Ice Harvester's starting goalie. He took a seat next to Adam._**

 ** _"Actually, I want to talk to you about something."_**

 ** _Adam's curiosity was piqued. "Okay. What do you need?"_**

 ** _Adam's interest only grew when Sven chuckled a little bit. "Actually, it's not about either of us. It's about Kristoff."_**

 ** _"What about him?"_**

 ** _Sven took a moment to reply. "Have you noticed him acting a little... different?"_**

 ** _Adam wasn't actively searching for clues when it came to changes in their mutual friend's behavior, but he had noticed the past couple weeks how the blond's behavior seemed just a little out of character. "Maybe just a little. Why?"_**

 ** _"The reason I'm asking is because it just seems like something about him has changed. For all the time I've known him, he's been a pretty quiet guy, almost on the verge of being an introvert, aside from when he's around us of course. But recently, he's been more... outgoing, at least in the classes I share with him. It's almost like he's gained newfound confidence from something or someone."_**

 ** _Adam had a very strange feeling that he knew exactly why Kristoff would be acting the way Sven is describing._**

 ** _The boy wasn't finished. "At the same time, he seems distracted. Haven't you noticed him not saying as much as he used to in lunch, or even slacking off a bit in hockey?"_**

 ** _Adam knew he had a point there. Upon looking back, Kristoff's behavior during lunch, normally the time they all joked around the most, had been extremely laid back recently. And Coach Quinn had recently gotten on his top defenseman's case for what he perceived to be "laziness" regarding his play. It was like he always spaced out._**

 ** _Thankfully, this also made Adam realize what, or in this case who the culprit was. Still, he decided to see what direction Sven would take this in._**

 ** _"Yeah, I guess I've noticed it a little bit. But so what? Maybe he's tired or something. It's a long season."_**

 ** _"A long season that just started. But in any event, I'm led to believe it's a person that's doing this."_**

 ** _Adam had to fight to keep a grin off his face. "Yeah? And who's that?"_**

 ** _"Do you remember our table's conversation at lunch on the first day of school?"_**

 ** _Adam genuinely tried to do so. So much has happened during the school year that everything was starting to blur together a little bit, with only a few really distinct memories sticking out from the rest of the pack._**

 ** _"Wasn't that the day we made a gigantic straw out of thirty seven smaller ones?"_**

 ** _Sven facepalmed._**

 ** _"No. Besides, that straw didn't even work."_**

 ** _"It was worth a shot."_**

 ** _Sven turned his attention away from Adam. If they were filming a movie or a sitcom or something, he'd be staring right at the camera. Finally, after letting out an enormous sigh, he looked at Adam again._**

 ** _"That's not what I'm referring to. We were talking about crushes or something that day. I don't really remember it too well myself."_**

 ** _This jogged Adam's memory. Now he remembered; that was when Kristoff basically told them he had a crush on Anna, almost right out of the blue. Actually, that's exactly what happened._**

 ** _"Oh yeah, now I remember. What about it?"_**

 ** _"Remember how Kristoff said he had a crush on someone named Anna?"_**

 ** _Adam gave props to Sven in his mind; he figured out who he was thinking of without any clues. That would be worth a sugar free lollipop or something if there was a prize._**

 ** _"Yeah. In case you haven't noticed, she works with us on our project in Mr. Oaken's class," said Adam._**

 ** _"Exactly my point."_**

 ** _Adam wasn't exactly sure where Sven was going with conversation now. "So what's the problem here?"_**

 ** _Sven's head snapped to look in Adam's direction. He clearly their talk was over. "Hmm? Oh, there isn't one. I just thought I'd bring up that Kristoff's acting a little strange. It doesn't matter."_**

 ** _Adam could barely believe it. "So you basically built up to this big revealing, only to drop it just like that?"_**

 ** _"Just like that. The only reason I brought it up at all is to kill time because, in case YOU haven't noticed, we're still sitting here waiting for someone to let us into the library."_**

 ** _Just then, a woman Adam recognized as the librarian walked down the hallway. She stopped when she saw the two boys waiting in the front entrance of her library._**

 ** _"The library's closed today, boys. Sorry."_**

 ** _And she continued on her way._**

 ** _Adam refused to believe it._**

* * *

Adam chuckled a little to himself as he made his way to the bathroom. That conversation with Sven did help kill the time, as was his intention. It was unfortunate he couldn't print his essay, but he was able to do at not the school's library, but the public one. He didn't really have a general idea where it was, and once he finally found it, he only arrived when they were about to close up. Just in time.

Still, that talk with Sven also made Adam think about his science group a little deeper than usual. Sure, he was friends with Anna and all that, but it was painfully obvious that the real connection was between Kristoff and Anna. It almost felt like they were friends for their entire lives, even though they didn't even know each other before this project. In fact, if you were to ask someone from the outside of their group, they would probably say they were flirting.

Because of this, it also dawned on Adam a little while that this crush probably wasn't one sided. All of this stuff, the playful arguments, the pretend fighting, none of it would happen if only one person felt it; it basically confirmed in his mind that Anna also had a crush on Kristoff.

Now the only problem was getting either of them to admit it.

Still, Adam couldn't help but feel that things would work themselves out in the end between the two. It almost seemed like it was inevitable. Not star crossed or anything, as they needed a little push, but things were flying now.

"I'm happy for them," mumbled Adam as he stepped out of the bathroom after washing his hands.

"What was that?"

Adam let out a gasp of surprise as his head snapped forward. It was only Elsa, who was grabbing something from the kitchen opposite the bathroom, but he was still startled nonetheless.

"Oh, hey. You startled me."

"That was my intention," she said with a smile as she sat down at the counter. Deciding not to reply, Adam was about to walk back down the hallway when Elsa spoke again.

"Hey, do you think you could come here a minute?"

Adam wasn't exactly sure what she would want to talk about. "Uh, sure," he said as he entered the kitchen, taking a seat at the counter. Once he was settled, Elsa spoke up again before he had the chance to say anything.

"Listen. My sister won't be happy if she finds out I'm telling you this, but I need your help."

"Help with what?"

Elsa paused for a moment. "The past couple weeks or so, she's been talking all about... well, your friend Kristoff downstairs." Adam knew exactly where she was going with this, but he remained silent, waiting for her to continue. She did.

"And it all culminated yesterday, when she told me... well, she has a crush on him."

Adam couldn't help but feel smug. He had been right. "Yeah, I already knew."

"So, I thoug... wait, what?" said Elsa, clearly not expecting what the Minnesota native just said.

"I mean, isn't it obvious? Have you seen how they always pretend to fight and stuff like that? It's really obvious they're pretty much flirting with each other."

Elsa looked down at the floor. "Oh. I thought I was revealing a big secret. You know, like a movie or something."

"Eh, I don't think many people have put two and two together yet. And I think I have a good idea about what you're gonna ask, but say it anyways."

Elsa smiled. "I need you to help me get them together."

Adam's smug satisfaction only grew. He was on fire today.

"Bingo. But you're basically gonna play matchmaker, and I'll be the little assistant?"

Elsa stifled a giggle. "No, it's nothing like that."

"I suppose I'll have to be in costume and pass out candy and flowers." He wasn't saying it like a question. Elsa couldn't help but laugh now.

"No, no, nothing like that" said Elsa, broken up between bursts of laughter.

"Oh. Just confirming."

Once her laughing finally slowed to a crawl (Adam couldn't help but join in a little as well), Elsa continued. "But seriously, I doubt my sister will ever say it out loud to anyone besides me. I don't why, but she's completely outgoing in everything except this kind of stuff. And Kristoff doesn't seem like the kind who's going to write her a love poem either."

Adam nodded his head. "You're right about that. But do you have an idea on what to do? Because forgive me, but I'm not about to come up with something on my own."

Elsa shook her head. "I don't have anything. I'll come up with something soon."

Adam nodded again. He was about to get up from his seat when something dawned on him.

"Hey, now I have to ask. Why are you telling all this to me?"

Elsa was confused. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, like, this is pretty personal stuff. I'm not trying to sound mean or anything like that, but is there a particular reason why you picked me to help you out?"

Elsa looked at him like he was a babbling idiot. "Because I trust you. That's why."

Adam didn't visibly show it, but he was definitely a little surprised by this. The truth was, he assumed that she knew a bunch of other people that she would talk about this stuff with instead. After all, wasn't she the best figure skater in the school? He had no idea what they talked about during practices or something. Besides, he was a GUY. Adam didn't have a concrete idea on what girls gossiped about and what not, but this felt like one of those things.

"Oh. Uh... thanks?" Adam still was a little fuzzy on why she would go to him for this, but whatever. Elsa gave him a nod when he suddenly felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. A quick look at the screen showed his dad just texted him, asking him to come home, as he had to leave to do something at the university.

"Oh, shoot. Listen, my dad just texted me, I have to go."

Elsa looked... disappointed? Whatever the emotion was, she clearly wasn't thrilled about him having to depart so suddenly. This was only further emphasized when she let out a rather audible sigh.

"Alright then. Like I said, I'll come up with a plan, okay?"

For the third time, Adam nodded. "Sure. I'll help out, I guess. Just don't screw this up," said Adam, putting mock emphasis on the last part. After all, friends joke around a lot.

Elsa giggled a little. "I'll... no, WE'LL try not to. After all, you're helping me too."

Adam couldn't really come up with a good counter argument, so he went with the default reply, the way to squirm yourself out of almost any situation:

"Fair enough."

* * *

After confirming with Kristoff and Anna that it was okay for him to leave (seeing how they were _still_ messing around and arguing when he returned to the basement, it was pretty clear they weren't gonna get any more work done that day), Adam stepped out of the house and onto the front porch. As if an automatic response, his mind began to run through the events of the past hour or so.

 _"So Kristoff has a crush on Anna, and Anna has a crush on Kristoff. Now this is set in stone, 100%,"_ thought Adam. And he was right; all of his suspicions were confirmed.

 _"...And I've also become Santa's little helper. Or something like that. I need a break."_

Unfortunately, this thought came to his mind too late. By the time Adam looked up after all of his brooding, he couldn't stop himself from bumping into someone who was walking in the opposite direction. It appeared like the other guy was deep in thought, similar to himself, but he still felt responsible for the collision.

"Oh my god I'm sorry sir, are you alright?" Adam asked as he turned to the man he bumped into; thankfully, neither of them fell down from the impact. He hoped the way he apologized didn't sound overly dramatic.

"Nah, I'm good bro," said the mystery person as he resumed walking again.

That voice sounded familiar.

"Coach Crane?"

The man stopped walking and turned around. It was indeed the new coach.

"Oh hey, you're that kid from the hockey team. Addison, right?"

"No, it's Adam."

"Relax, I'm messing with you. I know it's... Adam, right?" replied the coach, giving a single laugh at his little joke at the end. Adam was about to ask if he was being serious or not when the distinct noise of a phone vibrating interrupted them.

"Oh, I'm getting a call. Hey, we'll talk later," said Coach Crane as he reached into his pocket. Once he pulled out his phone, he accepted the call.

"Yo."

"Ay, Jason my man! What's shakin bacon?"

"Damn it Eddie, I told you to stop calling me."

"Hey, what's the problem? I've only called twice today."

"Exactly. I told you to not call me again today. I'm busy."

"Relax bro, I'm just checking in. So did you hear about that greeting card in Nevada that de..."

Coach Crane finally moved far enough away that Adam couldn't hear the other guy on the phone. Still, the defenseman simply stood there, completely still for a few seconds. Finally, a small smile crept up on his face.

 _"You know, I think I'm gonna like Coach Crane."_

* * *

 **And there we have it. Yee.**

 **Well, I hope you liked this chapter.** **Oh, and thanks to everyone who suggested the name "Ichabod" for Coach Crane, but I decided on the name Jason a little while after I published the last chapter. Why Jason?**

 **It sounded right. Eh. I was planning to reveal his name later or something, but my hand was forced, lol. Still, I definitely appreciate all the input, so a big thank you to everyone who's reviewed. Actually, while I'm at it, a big thank you to everyone who's reading this story in general as well. I can't thank all of you enough.**

 **Well, that's all from me.**

 **Have a nice day.**


	12. Chapter 12

**Greetings, fellow humans (I'm assuming), and welcome back to Cold Defense.**

 **Well, I don't really have a lot to say about this chapter, other than it's another hockey game for you all. It's a little different from what you may used to as well, so buckle up and prepare for the ride.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Frozen. Never have, never will.**

Present

 _"Thoughts"_

 **Author's Note**

 ** _Flashback_**

* * *

Adam looked down the ice, the cries from his teammates fading from his hearing. None of that was important. The only thing that mattered was the guy in front of him, carrying the puck up the ice. Everything and everyone else, including his own teammates, were just distractions.

As soon as Adam began to glide backwards, the opposing forward put on a burst of speed, with the intention to skate right past the defense and towards the goal. If only this was possible whenever #4 was on the ice for the Ice Harvesters.

With a burst of speed with his own, Adam matched the speed of the forward with his own, all while staying relatively close. He had to be careful not to get too greedy; if he was caught out of position, he would give this guy exactly what he wanted, an open shot.

Suddenly, the whistle sounded.

"Alright, that's enough! Teams 3 and 4, get off the ice. 1 and 2, you're up again."

Adam shook his head, forcing himself out of the intense state of mind he had just been in. Once he reached the bench and took a seat at his usual spot, he looked out and the sea of practice uniforms adorning the surface of the ice he had just occupied. The whistle sounded again.

As luck would have it, as soon as the next scrimmage began, Kristoff emerged from the locker room and sat down right next to Adam.

"Hey, sorry I'm late, I left my gloves at home. What did I miss?"

"Not much, just the third scrimmage. Your team is scheduled to go next, I think."

Breathing a sigh of relief to himself, Kristoff looked out at the practice; one of the team's just scored a goal. Adam looked over at his friend; the blond didn't seem particularly interested in what was going on, as if something was on his mind.

Adam knew exactly what he was distracted by. The conversation he had with Elsa just yesterday stuck out in his mind.

"Hey, Kristoff?"

Kristoff looked over at Adam. "Yeah?"

Adam cursed himself for starting this conversation. He had no idea which direction to take it in. He couldn't say anything about yesterday, so he decided to simply play dumb.

"Are you alright, man?"

Kristoff gave him a look of confusion. "Of course I am. Why wouldn't I be?"

"It just seems like... you aren't exactly around. What I mean is, it feels like you're spaced out a lot or something." Kristoff shook his head.

"Nah, I'm just thinking about today's game. It's a big one, after all."

Adam nodded his head in agreement, giving a small grin in the process. Kristoff was right; today's game had special significance for several reasons. The first, and most obvious, was that this was Coach Crane's first game as, well, coach. It was definitely a little exciting; Adam wanted to see how his relatively chill demeanor would carry over into the games.

The second reason affected Kristoff more than Adam. The team they were playing, the Helsborg Flying Penguins, was the not once, not twice, but three time champion of the league. In the past three years.

It didn't really bother Kristoff too much, as it wasn't like Central Arendelle was contending for the championship in any of those years, but the simple fact was that these guys had won the title every year he had been playing for CA. He was definitely a little eager to get at them, to add another win to the column, to keep the roll they were on going.

Adam wasn't quite as enthusiastic. Sure, this team they would be playing sounded really good, and he always loved an intense game, but he didn't have any history with rivalries here; he was coming in from the outside. If these guys did anything really worth remembering to the team the past few years, he had no idea what it was, nor did he share any of the emotions his teammates may be feeling about this upcoming game.

With that being said, there was one thing he was looking forward to. It was a little something Kristoff had filled him in on at lunch just yesterday...

* * *

 _ **Kristoff, Adam, Sven, and Olaf sat around the lunch table, having a deep conversation on whether the word "Berenstain" used an E or an A in the 'Stxin' portion. As was often the case when the group of four had debates about important things such as this, disagreements were everywhere.**_

 _ **"I'm telling you man, it's an E, for sure," said Sven, crossing his arms. He only did that when he thought he was right.**_

 _ **"That's garbage, I went through all of my old BB books yesterday. They ALL say 'BerenstAin!" yelled Kristoff, unnecessarily raising his voice. He lowered his head when he realized a few people were staring at him.**_

 _ **"I don't really remember, since I could never spell it anyway!" said Olaf, laughing while he did so.**_

 _ **"I think it's A," said Adam, adding his two cents to the whole issue.**_

 _ **Kristoff game Sven a look that screamed "What now?" Sven shook his head and looked away.**_

 ** _Now that that heated discussion came to a close, Kristoff figured it was time to give Adam the scoop on the team they would be playing in their next game, as he usually did._**

 ** _"So, Adam, you ready?"_**

 ** _"For what?"_**

 ** _"Our next hockey game."_**

 ** _"Oh." The Minnesota native nodded his head. "Are they good or something?"_**

 ** _Sven took over for Kristoff. "They're the best. They've got a three peat going."_**

 ** _Adam couldn't help but smile. These guys have won the past THREE championships? That distinction is reserved for only the absolute best of the best._**

 ** _Sven continued. "Besides, there's one guy in particular you should know about."_**

 ** _"Yeah? And who's that?"_**

 ** _"His name is Alexander Berglund. He's their starting center."_**

 ** _Adam was unimpressed. "So? Every team has to have a starting center."_**

 ** _Sven shook his head. "Well this guy would be the starting center on ANY team in the league. Actually, he's the best player in general. He's won the MVP and scoring title every season he's been here."_**

 ** _Adam's smile grew even wider. So this guy was some kind of wizard on offense, a miniature Sidney Crosby. Just the kind of player he was born to stop.  
_**

 ** _"Good. I guess we'll find out what happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object."_**

 ** _Olaf spoke up this time. "I don't know about this one. I'm not sure even you can slow him down. He's a magician with the puck. He'll pull moves you've never even SEEN before."_**

 ** _Adam's smile faded into a more serious look. "We'll see."_**

* * *

Since that conversation at lunch, Adam had done a little extra research on just who he would be going up against. The stuff about the team being really good was true; they were indeed the defending three time champions, and they had a slew of other titles before this recent run. This 'Alexander Berglund' guy also seemed pretty good, based on the highlights he saw on the website. Still, he didn't seem like the world beater that the others were hyping him up to be. There was something he did that Adam wasn't seeing.

Shaking his head for the second time that day, Adam stared ahead as the team's switched for the next scrimmage. He had to focus on the task at hand.

* * *

As the light blue car pulled up to the curb of the school, Adam got out of the passenger seat, thanking his father for the ride.

"No problem, son. Sorry I can't stick around for the game, your mother and I have to work," replied Patrick. Adam nodded his head in understanding.

"It's fine. I'll tell you all about it."

Adam's father smiled as he reached over the car to shut the passenger door. "You do that."

Adam stayed in place as he watched the car pull away from the school and back onto the road. Finally, after a moment or two, he turned around to make his way to the locker room.

Arriving at the big double doors that served as the entrance to the home of the school's hockey team, Adam made his way inside. He was greeted by a few people who were already there and suited up, but most people still had yet to arrive. It appeared that Coach Crane was one of these people.

Deciding he had nothing better to do, Adam went to his locker stall to change into his game apparel. He couldn't help but give yet another small grin as he saw his familiar jersey hanging in his locker, the #4 he had grown so accustomed to stitched on the back.

Once he was dressed in his padding and uniform, Adam began his usual pre-game ritual of staring straight ahead at the wall while sitting on the edge of his locker, completely still. It gave him valuable time to think before a game.

As much as he wanted to go over in his mind again what happened yesterday, all the 'drama' that went on at Anna and Elsa's house and what not, Adam blotted these thoughts out of his mind. The only purpose they would serve for the next few hours would be an unnecessary distraction.

 _"The only thing I gotta focus on is the game. And how to stop this Berglund kid,"_ thought Adam.

Although he wanted to make a plan for how to shut this kid down, it was rather difficult to do when the only footage of him was a few clips on the school's website. The sad truth was that he simply wasn't exactly sure how this kid was going to play.

 _"Well, look on the bright side. He probably has no idea I exist at all. Heh."_

After a few more minutes of relative silence, both in the physical world and in his mind, Adam broke his stillness by quickly glancing at a growing crowd near the white board. Coach Crane had apparently arrived at some point the past few minutes, and he just posted on the board what looked like the starting line-ups. Shrugging to himself, Adam got up to join the crowd.

After jostling for position to see the board, Adam got a quick glance at the depth chart. His eyes immediately scanned downwards, to the defensive pairings.

He was on the first pair. So was Kristoff.

Adam was surprised by this decision. In all of his time playing hockey, including Minnesota, he always never played on the top defensive pairing; he was always seen a specialist kind of guy, considering he was only good at defense. The player's on the first line were the specialists, the one's who had the most complete overall game.

Of course, Adam knew that Coach Crane knew that he wasn't very skilled at offense; that much was evident enough during the few practices he had spent with the team. Still, the decision to trust Adam with the biggest defensive AND offensive assignments seemed like a bit of a reach.

Adam's thoughts were interrupted by someone calling his name. "Hey, Adam! You're on the first pairing, how about that?"

Turning his head to the source of where his name was coming from, he was greeted with Kristoff lumbering up to him.

"Hmmm? Oh yeah, that's pretty nice, I guess," mumbled Adam.

"Pretty nice? Dude, this is the first time you've EVER started! How are you not excited?"

The truth was that Adam didn't know why he wasn't excited. It wasn't that long ago when he would have been thrilled with just having a place on the team at all; now he was being handed one of the most important positions, and he was basically reacting with a shrug of his shoulders and a "Meh."

Just as Adam was about to go more in depth in his mind on why this was the case, everyone in the room was startled by the whistle being blown. Everyone was used to just how loud that thing was by now, but not when it happened unexpectedly.

"Alright, listen up! Yeah yeah, shut up already," said Coach Crane. Nobody took any offense to this; everyone was used to his painfully sarcastic personality by now. And nobody would really say this out loud yet, but Adam could tell that he was slowly beginning to win over his new team with his different kind of leadership. In a way, he was the kind of leader the team desperately needed, a breath of fresh air. And that was just during practice.

"Okay, so we've got a big game against the Helsborg Flying Penguins today. Let me just say that that's quite possibly the dumbest team name I've ever heard in my life, and I've coached for and against some weird shit."

Adam laughed. So did many others.

Coach Crane remained completely emotionless. "In any event, they're apparent the three time champions, in case you didn't know, although you really should know this before me. But anyways, there's one guy I want us to pay attention to in particular, and his name is Alexander Berglund. I've taken to calling him ABerg."

A few players shuffled their feet somewhat nervously. It appeared to Adam that 'ABerg' has had a bigger impact on the team than he initially thought.

"This kid is an absolute stud with the puck. He's one of the smoothest skaters I've ever seen, and he has ridiculously good handles. Not to mention, he can put his wrist shoot seemingly anywhere he wants, and his slapshot is like a rocket."

Coach Crane waited for a moment to allow his description to sink in. Once it appeared everyone had registered the crucial intel in their minds, he continued. "I've set our game plan around stopping him. I've done a little research in their advanced stats, and the general consensus I've come up with is that their offense has a tendency to decline in both scoring and puck possession whenever ABerg takes a seat. Therefore, shutting down ABerg will assist us greatly in our efforts to slow down the offense that's apparently won them a bunch of stuff."

Adam couldn't help but be amazed at Coach Crane's insightful analysis. Despite his extremely chill attitude and casual demeanor, it definitely seemed like he had some fire in the belly, in addition to the dedication it would take just to find all of this information. After all, it wasn't like it was readily available like it is for professional hockey teams.

Coach Crane still wasn't quite finished. "Because of this, I want everyone to pay particular attention to defense today, and that includes the forwards. We've been practicing many defensive techniques, let's start executing them right now. Let's go boys."

Everyone gave a holler as he dismissed the meeting. Just in time too, as the clock above the door read there was only a minute left before they had to take the ice.

As the team lined up to head out to the ice surface, Adam took his spot at the front of the line. That was one of the things he got to do now that he was a starter. It actually felt kinda nice.

After a few seconds, everyone began to head out. Adam, being one of the first ones on the ice, practically shot out like a bullet, skating his laps around their side of the ice a little faster than usual.

Now that they were back on home ice, the hectic environment they encountered on the road was a little more subdued. Nevertheless, it did appear that there were more people at the game than usual, based on a quick glance of the stands. Adam wanted to take a closer look to see if Anna and Elsa were at the game, but he didn't allow himself to do it. He didn't really want to know, as it would just serve as, go figure, a distraction.

 _"Now I know what Kristoff's been feeling recently. Huh."_

Finally, after a minute or two of skating in circles in their own end of the ice, as well as the starting lineups being blasted through the PA, the teams got ready for the opening face-off at center ice. Unlike every other game thus far, however, Adam didn't head to the bench. He lined up behind the forwards, ready to collect the puck if they won the draw.

He smiled. Now the excitement of being in the starting lineup was really beginning to set in.

 _"Let's go."_

Unfortunately, the face-off was not won by the Ice Harvesters, but instead by Berglund and the Flying Penguins. Adam began to glide back a little bit, expecting an immediate attack from the opposing team.

He was right.

As soon as the puck trickled back to the other team's defenseman, he immediately flipped it back up to Berglund, obviously intending for him to lead the attack. Adam inwardly grinned; it was time to see what this kid could do.

As soon as he got the puck on his stick, Berglund was off. Striding as quickly as he could down the ice, he sped by Olaf and the other Ice Harvester forwards, clearly catching them unaware. Even Adam was caught by surprise from this burst of speed, as he now only had a couple of seconds to react.

Turning on the jets of his own, Adam began skating backwards as fast as he could, with the only goal being to stay in front of ABerg, to not give him an open shot at their net.

A quick glance at his skates revealed they were leaning a little to the left, indicating Berglund was about to turn to the left. Adam reacted accordingly, beginning to drift slightly to the left to intercept his course. Much to his surprise, however, Berglund instead sharply turned to the right, giving himself a wide open lane. Adam had never seen such an agile move before; he could never even dream of pulling off what this kid just did.

Of course, the whole point of that move was to get a wide open lane to the net, and that's exactly what ABerg got. He fired.

He was stopped cold by Sven's glove. Sven would later say that he had no idea how he was able to make that save.

As the ref blew his whistle to stop play, Adam quickly ran what just happened in his mind again as he skated to the bench. He didn't want to face the cold hard truth, but he had to; he just had his ankles broken. As a player who prided himself on his defense, what just happened was unacceptable. He was COMPLETELY shown up by the move this guy just pulled out on him.

Of course, this also served to confirm in Adam's mind just how good this kid was. All of the talk about his talent wasn't hype. It was fact. This guy was 100% for real. Everything everyone had said about him was the truth. Who else could literally go 1 against all during an actual game and almost come out on top like that?

Adam's thinking was interrupted by someone skating up next to him and trying to say something to him. He absentmindedly turned his head, expecting it to be Kristoff or something, but it was actually... Berglund?

"Hey. Nice defense there. I appreciate it."

Berglund and a couple teammates who overhead it laughed as their starting center skated over to join them over at their bench. Adam remained completely emotionless.

 _"Ah, so he's a trash talker. I'll just have to bully the bully."_

* * *

Much to Adam's discontent, he didn't have many chances to do so for the remainder of the first period. It was almost as if Coach Crane was purposely keeping him off the ice whenever Berglund was out there.

Adam couldn't understand this decision. The score was still deadlocked at 0-0, even though the advantage was clearly in the Flying Penguins favor, as they lead the Ice Harvesters in nearly every offensive statistic; puck possession, shots on goal, scoring chances, etc. The only reason the game was still scoreless at all was because of the defense only coming up with the goal saving play when it had to and some uncharacteristically fantastic play in net from Sven.

Even so, it still didn't matter.

With about a minute or so remaining in the period, Berglund fired a pass over to a teammate, one of the left wingers on the Flying Penguins, who proceeded to fire a rocket of a shot straight on net. Sven put his pads down, expecting it to be low.

And it was low. But at the same time, it was just high enough to slip by the top of his pad.

The crowd immediately went silent. The only sounds that could be heard were the celebrations by the Flying Penguins, and Adam yelling out a word that shouldn't be repeated from the bench.

Although he tried his best not to show it, Adam was furious over what just happened. The shot that scored the goal was a very stoppable one; furthermore, he probably would've been able to prevent it from reaching the net at all if he was just out there on the ice instead of on the bench. But because Berglund was out there, he couldn't also be there to stop him from setting up that play.

Adam shook his head.

* * *

When the first period ended, both teams made their way to their respective locker rooms. The mood was definitely a little toned down in the Ice Harvesters room; nobody was panicking, as the score was only 1-0 in favor of the other team, but nerves were beginning to creep up a little bit.

Well, that's actually a lie. One player was pretty much panicking.

As soon as everyone settled near their lockers, Adam went to the coach's office. He had a few things to ask Coach Crane.

Once he reached the door to the tiny room connected to the larger locker room, Adam pulled it open and stepped inside without knocking. He was met with the sight of Coach Crane furiously writing on what appeared to be a little notepad.

"Hey, Coach."

Coach Crane looked up from what he was doing to see that it was Adam who had entered his office. "Oh, hey Adam. What can I do for you?"

Now that he was actually here, Adam found himself a little unsure on how to proceed. He really wanted to tear into him for his decision to mostly keep him on the bench, but at the same time he knew that would be unfair. After all, he had coached exactly one period with his new team. He decided to compromise.

"Listen. Why are you keeping me on the bench so much if you put me in the starting lineup? I'm just curious."

Coach Crane leaned back in his chair a little bit, not breaking eye contact with Adam. "I may as well lay it out. I've studied the other team, and I've come to the conclusion that their talent level far exceeds ours."

Adam didn't say anything. This was fairly common knowledge, considering they were the three time champions. Much to his surprise, however, Coach Crane proceeded to smile.

"That doesn't mean they're necessarily better, however. In case you haven't noticed, they have their backup goalie in tonight."

Adam raised his eyebrows. This was actually news to him.

Coach Crane continued. "Basically, they have the mindset that they could just cruise in here and steal a quick win without giving it too much effort. We're gonna prove 'em wrong."

Adam still couldn't really see where he was going with this. "How?"

"Hockey is a game of momentum. Right now, all of the momentum is on their side, rather than ours. But they're cocky, and I've seen this a million times. They're just gonna cruise through the rest of the game, thinking they can get a couple more easy goals and call it a day. And that's when we strike. I'll need you to basically do your thing once we get the lead."

Adam wasn't entirely convinced. "What if we don't get the lead?"

Coach Crane smiled again.

"Trust me. We will."

* * *

As the teams lined up for the opening face-off of the second period, Adam was sitting on the bench. He wasn't as mad about it as before, however, now that there was an actual plan. Kinda.

The more he thought about it, the more Adam couldn't help but wonder if Coach Crane was some kind of tactical genius or if he was desperate. He was essentially being saved for later, as if to surprise the other team and completely throw off their game at the worst possible moment. If it worked, it would be some of the most brilliant strategy Adam ever saw. If it didn't, well... it's only one game.

Adam's thinking was suddenly interrupted by a loud chorus of cheers from the audience and a few people from the bench standing up in celebration. They had just scored a goal.

Adam hadn't even been paying attention to the play, but he celebrated with his teammates on the bench anyways. A goal was a goal, and now the score read 1-0.

As things finally calmed down enough for play to resume, Adam still remained on the bench. Nevertheless, he looked back at Coach Crane with a smile. The new coach replied with no words, just a small smile of his own.

As if he was saying "What did I tell you?"

* * *

The remainder of the period flew by rather quickly, as there weren't very many stoppages in play. Now that the score was even, play began to shift in favor of the Ice Harvesters, although the game was still relatively even overall. Adam was also seeing a little more playing time, though he was specifically advised by Coach Crane to not waste too much energy ("Wait until we've got the lead, and slam the door shut" were his exact words).

Eventually, with about five minutes or so remaining in the period, Kristoff collected the puck from behind the Ice Harvesters net, skating up the ice to lead the attack. As he began to approach center ice, however, he found himself being thrown to the ice by someone behind him. Just as he was beginning to stand up, the whistle sounded.

It was Berglund, with a very reckless defensive play. He was being called for roughing.

Naturally, being the special snowflake he was, he tried to argue the call with the ref. It was somewhat difficult to hear him over the cheers of the crowd, however, and the ref ignored him anyways. The penalty was final.

As he skated over to the penalty box, yelling something along the way, Adam couldn't resist.

"HEY BERGY! NICE DEFENSE." he yelled over the crowd, while also holding up his hands to his throat, pretending to choke.

Berglund yelled something back. Adam didn't hear it.

* * *

The Ice Harvesters failed to score on their power play, nor did they score for the remainder of the period. It was disappointing, really, as they had some good chances, but they would have plenty of time in the third to catch up.

Nobody said anything in the locker room. As was typical when the score was tied going into the third, everyone was completely focused on what was coming up next.

Finally, the timer in the locker room expired, signaling it was time to take to the ice again. Everyone lined up to head out for the final frame in the hockey game.

 _"Go time._

* * *

All of the excitement, anticipation, whatever emotion everyone was feeling disappeared almost as soon as the game began. And it only took a minute.

It was a very eventful minute. Dimitri, who was out on the ice to take the opening face-off, lost to Berglund. This wasn't really a big deal; it seemed like everyone was losing the face-off's to Berglund. Adam didn't want to admit it, but that was something the little punk was good at.

Unfortunately for the Ice Harvesters, the Flying Penguins appeared to have a strategy as well. Rather than giving it to Berglund and letting him go Rambo, they worked as a team. The defensemen passed to each other, the team skated in a specific formation, that sort of thing.

The thing that stood out the most, however, was all of the passing they were doing. Nobody held the puck for more than a second. It was all very confusing, really; they were changing it up when it came to their intended target, so it wasn't like they could simply intercept the puck simply by predicting who the next target would be.

And suddenly, Berglund fired. Who else?

Whatever they were trying worked. 2-1.

A collective groan rose up from the crowd. Everyone had been ready to explode when the Ice Harvesters scored, but instead it was the other way around.

After he got over his disappointment, Adam looked behind him at Coach Crane. He looked like a stone statue. No matter what was going through his mind, it was clear the goal didn't bother him. Still, he spoke up.

"Listen up, guys! Let's keep our heads in this game, don't let this get to you. We can make up that goal and even more. It's go time now."

Adam couldn't help but smile. That kind of stuff, getting the team in line when the going gets tough was normally his job, but he wouldn't mind giving it up the coach. After all, isn't that one of the things coaches are for?

* * *

Despite the efforts of Coach Crane to calm his team down, it appeared his advice largely fell on deaf ears. For the next fifteen minutes of the game, the Ice Harvesters were completely dominated, with sloppy passing whenever they had the puck (which was becoming increasingly rare), silly defensive miscues and unnecessarily flashy at being a hero being the most noticeable aspects. The team was going to need some kind of break if they were to have a prayer of pulling even.

And a break they got.

With about three minutes remaining in the game, one of the Flying Penguins foolishly took a goalie interference call, when he shoved Sven out of the net. It was completely out of line, but he was busted for it.

Adam, who had been on the ice when the penalty was committed, skated over to the bench, expecting to be replaced with the power play unit. Much to his surprise however, Coach Crane was signaling for him to remain on the ice.

Adam gave him a confused look. He had yet to play on the power play this season, and he almost never did so during his time in Minnesota. After all, the purpose of a power play was to generate offense. That wasn't something you used Adam for.

Nevertheless, Coach Crane nodded his head. He knew what he was saying.

Inwardly shrugging to himself, Adam skated over to join the team at the face-off. Once everyone was in position for the face-off, the ref blew his whistle and dropped the puck.

Dimitri, who had been the center out on the ice for the draw, won the tip, with the puck finding its way straight to Adam. Once he had possession of the biscuit, Adam looked around for passing options. Nobody was immediately available, but he himself had an open shot. Figuring that the worst possible outcome was that the puck was cleared out of the zone if he missed, Adam fired.

It was really quite a shot. The original shot would've missed the net, but, as if it was fate or something like that, the puck deflected off one of the Flying Penguin's sticks. It was very similar to that own goal Adam himself allowed that one game.

And just like that, the game was tied.

Between the roaring of the crowd and the mobbing from his teammates, Adam couldn't help but feel proud. It was true the game was only tied, they hadn't won anything yet. But hey, why not take a moment to celebrate?

Finally, after all the pandemonium died down, play was all set to continue. After giving a few final fist bumps to nearby teammates on the bench, Adam settled in and prepared for a fantastic finish.

"Let's go boys!"

* * *

The mood all around was tense. The fans were on the edge of their seats, ready to see a home town victory. The players were restless, eager to get underway. Even Coach Crane seemed more invested than normal, intensely focusing on everything going on down at the ice.

As the teams lined up for the overtime draw, Adam took a look up the ice, at the Flying Penguin's that he would be going up against this shift. Berglund surprisingly wasn't out there; Adam couldn't think of a single reason why he wouldn't be. After all, Coach Crane was basically ditching the 'wait until we get the upper hand' strategy now that it was overtime ("Okay, go all out now" is literally what he said), so it didn't really make sense to not play him. Nevertheless, he wasn't complaining.

As the puck dropped for the beginning of overtime, the face-off was won by the Ice Harvesters. The puck trickled back to Kristoff, who immediately passed it to Adam. Adam was a little surprised by this; it was an unusual show of confidence in his offensive abilities, as Kristoff was almost always the one to lead the offensive charges, no matter who the other defenseman was. Giving up authority like this was a little unexpected, but whatever.

As soon as he the puck, Adam in turn shot it up the boards. His intended target was Olaf, but it instead got past everyone and was whistled down for icing. Not a good start.

Now that the face-off was in their own zone, the Ice Harvesters had to switch from offense to defense. Winning the face-off was crucial; overtime games have a tendency to be settled quickly, and they did not want to fall victim to this.

Thankfully, they did win the face-off. Now that he had the puck again, Kristoff decided to take matters into his own hands, skating up the ice. He looked around for potential passing options, but none were readily available; he would have to do it himself.

Unfortunately, his attempts to gain entrance into the offensive zone by himself failed. Being a relatively large size for a hockey player meant he was typically slower with the puck, and this proved to be the case when it was poked away from him by one of the Flying Penguin's forwards. Even worse, the puck found its way to another one of their players who had been lurking behind the play.

It was the worst possible scenario. The other team had a breakaway _in overtime._

Sven immediately readied himself.

The opposing player skated into the net. Sven kept his entire focus on the puck. Forehand, backhand, forehand again, pump fake -

The shot was fired. It was heading straight for the top right corner.

Sven literally stood up. He prayed he did so fast enough.

And he did.

The crowd screamed and burst into applause when the puck hit the top part of his shoulder and deflected away. One of the Ice Harvesters immediately picked up the puck with his stick and shot it up the ice. An icing call followed, but it didn't matter. Sven had made an incredible save.

Adam imagined himself slowly clapping his hands.

* * *

After that near catastrophe, things largely calmed down for the next few minutes. With the play being nearly dead even, very little ground was given on both sides. Occasionally, a shot or two would be fired on net, but nobody had gotten a chance nearly as perfect as that one breakaway a few minutes earlier.

Finally, with about three minutes left, it looked as if play was beginning to favor the Ice Harvesters. They were keeping the puck in the offensive zone a little more, keeping the pressure on the defense. They didn't have them running yet, but the Flying Penguin's were definitely stumbling a little bit.

Adam couldn't help but feel confident as he lined up for the face-off in the Flying Penguin's defensive zone. He had a very strange feeling that a goal was going to be scored in the next minute or so.

And he was right.

The Ice Harvesters lost the draw. As soon as the puck went back to the other team's defenseman, he fired a perfect pass up the boards to Berglund. Berglund then proceeded to enter the offensive zone, only to drop it off to one of the other forwards on the team. The shot was fired.

Adam was just a second too late to block it. So was Sven.

As the Flying Penguin's poured out onto the ice to celebrate the game winner, the Ice Harvesters immediately skated off. The crowd, which was so quiet you could hear a pin drop, also immediately began to file out of the arena. Nobody really wanted to watch them bask in their victory.

Adam was furious as they entered the locker room. He felt he should've stopped that puck, and he had essentially failed the team. Much to his surprise, however, the mood in the locker room was surprisingly... not somber? That probably wasn't a good description, but it was true; nobody except for Adam really seemed bothered. In fact, a few people were talking about how they were proud the way they played that game.

Adam didn't understand. They just lost the game. How could you NOT be disappointed? He walked over to Kristoff and asked exactly that.

"Well, of course it's disappointing we lost. But let's be honest, I think most of these guys, myself included, are glad that we put up a good fight. I mean, they're the best team in the league, and we nearly had them. Besides, because we lost in overtime, we still get a point in the standings. We'll just get them next time."

Adam took a moment to process this. And the more he thought about it, the more he realized that Kristoff was right. They _had_ put up a strong fight against a team that, quite frankly, outmatched them (even if it was only their backup goalie in net). Furthermore, the team hadn't completely capitulated, an apparently common thing under Coach Quinn.

Without even realizing it, a smile crept up on Adam's face. This team simply had a different feel from a few weeks ago. They weren't going to give up. It felt like it was completely different compared to even just a little while ago. Was it because of Coach Crane? Their recent stretch of good play? Whatever it was, it was having exactly the effect Adam was hoping for: a culture change. This was just the beginning.

"Yeah. We'll get them next time."

* * *

 **And that's a wrap.**

 **Sorry if the ending seemed just a little corny, but I thought it worked well. Let this be the start of some unstoppable dynasty or something. Okay, it probably won't happen like that, but you get the idea, lol.**

 **I hope you guys liked the introduction of ABerg, and I'm sure we haven't seen the last of him. There hasn't really been an antagonist in this story since Coach Quinn departed, so I felt it was necessary. Besides, I have a mental list, if you will, of things I want to include in this story, and I can now cross off one more box.**

 **Anyways, I've largely avoided talking about this, but I think it's about time to bring up just how long this story is gonna go. To keep it simple: this story is only gonna go for the length of the hockey season. In case you need a refresher, there are 30 games in the season (as depicted in this story, the NHL regular season has 82 for comparison), and 6 games in total have been played. I'm not gonna go into detail for all of those, as that would be completely insane, but I intend to wrap this story up when we reach the end of Central Arendelle's season. I can't really give an estimate on how many chapters are left, however.**

 **Oh yeah, and one more thing. I know the Berenstain Bears segment seemed really goofy, but it's something that's recently been brought to my attention. If you have no idea what I'm talking about, just Google "Berenstain Bears conspiracy." I swear it's always been spelled BerenstAin. Please back me up, lol.**

 **Well, that's about it. Hope you enjoyed the chapter.**

 **Have a nice day.**


	13. Chapter 13

**Hey everyone.**

 **Well, if you're still here, I know it's been a long time since I last posted a chapter. I'm just gonna lay it out: I've basically been taking a little break from this story. Writing new chapters was seriously starting to grow repetitive, so I just stepped away for a little, did some other stuff, that sort of thing. Nevertheless, I've got a new chapter for you all now.**

 **On a more positive note, I have to say this is probably my favorite chapter so far, the beginning in particular. It was just so much fun to write. I know this chapter's really short compared to the others, but... you'll just have to read and find out.**

 **Okay, enough from me. On with the story.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Frozen. Never have, never will.**

Present

 _"Thoughts"_

 **Author's Note**

 _ **Flashback**_

* * *

As the golden sun began to rise over the happy village on yet another beautiful morning, Adam's alarm clock suddenly blasted its way through the dream he was having about such a nice looking place. With an angry roar that was somewhat muffled by the pillow his face was buried in, the defenseman responded by slamming the off button on the clock with his fist so hard he almost broke it.

Still, he shut it off. That's all that mattered.

With one final grunt of resignation, Adam forced himself out of bed, only to witness that, rather than the happy cheery landscape he envisioned in his dream, it was instead dark, gloomy, and to finish it all off, stormy.

 _"At least it's... Monday."_

If Adam was looking for something to bring him out of his down spirits, that certainly wasn't it. But hey, he could still have a fantastic time recapping the wild weekend he had.

 _"Let's see,"_ he thought as he hopped in the shower.

 _"... Not even a practice."_

* * *

Adam ran downstairs in a bit of a hurry. He had misjudged how much time he spent in the shower, thus making him take just a little too long to get ready for the day, and time was beginning to run short. He would have to hurry if he was going to arrive at school on time.

"Mom! Sorry I'm late, let's get going," he yelled as he descended the stairs. Rather than being met with the usual sight of both of his parents at the kitchen table, however, only his father was there.

"Dad, where's Mom?"

"Out in the car, she's been waiting for you."

Breathing a sigh of relief, Adam made his way to the front door. No sooner had he grabbed the handle, though, than the door was pushed open by someone from the outside. It was his mother.

"Mom, what are you doing? We need to go."

Adam's mother looked down at him with a sad gaze. "Sorry honey, but the car's not starting."

Adam's ears and mind refused to believe it. He had to ask for confirmation.

"What?"

"I said, the car's not starting. You're going to have to walk."

Adam''s eyes grew wide. "B-b-but what about my bike?" Whatever hope he had remaining sank lower when she shook her head.

"You're not riding out there in that pouring rain. Your bike will probably slip. Here, take this umbrella," she replied, handing him an umbrella she had apparently been holding.

Adam's eye twitched.

* * *

If you were to drift into the confines of a very particular classroom, you would see Mrs. Fredriksen's class hard at work, writing away at the in-class essays they were assigned every now and then. It certainly wasn't fun, especially early in the morning. This morning in particular.

After nearly ten straight minutes of writing what felt in his mind like the same sentence over and over, Kristoff laid his pencil down and gave a non-audible sigh. He needed to give himself a minute before he could find it in him to continue.

He glanced back to the corner Adam usually occupied, but as was the case this morning, the Minnesota native was nowhere to be found. The blond inwardly shrugged; everyone got sick at least once in their life.

And then the door opened.

Only a few people, including Kristoff, bothered to look up from their papers, but those who did were certainly met with a rather ridiculous sight. It was Adam, who appeared rather... wet. A soaked hoodie lay in his left hand, while the mangled remains of a small umbrella occupied his right.

He and Kristoff made eye contact. Adam gave him a glare basically telling him to drop it. He obliged.

Mrs. Fredriksen, on the other hand, didn't quite receive the message. She didn't speak out loud in fear of disrupting the class, but Adam could decipher her lips silently mouthing "what happened?" as he made his way to his seat. His shoes squeaked rather loudly.

Adam just looked at her for a moment. And then he shook his head. Repeatedly.

 _"Well, at least I'm probably exempt from whatever everyone's doing today."_

As soon as he sat down at his desk, however, this thought was shattered. On his writing surface lay a blank outline with a single essay prompt.

 _"Of course. Because today's already been too perfect, right?"_

* * *

The bell rang throughout the room, signaling the end of class at last. A few sighs of relief rose up throughout the room; the past hour had been brutal.

As everyone got up from their seats to turn in their assignment and leave the room, Adam purposely stayed behind to try and avoid the others. Unfortunately, it didn't work, as both Olaf and Sven turned around. And they both saw him.

"Heh. Hey Adam! You just walk through the thunderstorm?" asked Olaf while laughing at his own bad joke.

"Uh... yeah."

Olaf immediately stopped. "Oh... sorry."

Adam shook his head. "Nah, don't worry about it. Still, this umbrella didn't need to break halfway through because of the wind," he said angrily while gesturing to said umbrella, which lay crumbled and destroyed next to his desk.

"Well look on the bright side. I'm sure you got some exercise," said Sven.

"Yeah yeah, quit trying to be an optimist," replied Adam as he handed his 3/4 completed essay to Mrs. Fredriksen. The paper itself was a little wet, but it was mostly manageable.

After the four of them had turned in their assignments, they all left the class with a goodbye to their teacher. Adam threw his destroyed umbrella away.

For the next minute or two, nobody said anything. Adam wasn't exactly in a talkative mode, and Kristoff, Olaf, and Sven weren't entirely sure where to begin a conversation, considering he was being such a Debbie Downer and stuff like that. Kristoff decided to give it a crack.

"So... practice today."

Adam stopped walking.

"Today? I thought it was tomorrow."

Kristoff slowly shook his head. "No, there's a game tomorrow... we have practice today."

Adam pondered this new information for a moment. "... So, does one of you gentlemen happen to have an extra hockey stick I could borrow today? Forget if its left or right handed, I never shoot the puck anyways. Or how about pads? Actually, make that and. And skates, too. Oh, can't forget the gloves. Also, how about any other padding that isn't already provided by the school, meaning everything except a helmet?"

Olaf shook his head. "Sorry dude. But hey, just call your parents later and tell them to drive all your stuff over. You'll be fine."

Adam's eye twitched. Again.

* * *

"Yoo-hoo! Heff a good day, ya?"

No sooner had Mr. Oaken finished his unusual goodbye to his class then the bell began to ring for the second time that day. As everyone got up from their seats, Adam couldn't help but smile; nothing remarkably unlucky had happened during that past hour. It was a desperately needed change of pace.

It was also during this past hour that he, Anna, and Kristoff finally finished their project. Handing in the large stack of papers was definitely relieving; it felt like they had been working on that assignment for months (in reality, just remove the "s" from "months"). Still, the completion of their project felt rather bittersweet to Adam, as it all but put an end to the regular meetings he had grown to enjoy. Nevertheless, it was bound to happen sooner or later.

Adam shook his head clear as he entered his third hour classroom. As tempting as it was, he didn't want to dwell on a bunch of stuff in the past; it was time to focus on the present. Once he had a more clear frame of mind, he went over to his desk and laid his head down. The usual.

A few minutes after Adam had arrived, Elsa walked into the room. The Minnesota native didn't even bother to look in her direction, but had he done so, he would have been greeted with an unusual smile. Something was up.

"Hey."

Adam finally turned his head to look in her direction.

"Hm?"

Elsa's smile remained. Adam's curiosity piqued just a little bit.

"By any chance, do you remember that one little chat we had that day at my house?"

Adam racked his memory to remember. "Oh, the one about how the Bulls will or will not win the championship?"

Elsa's smile was finally replaced with a look of confusion. "What are you talking about?"

It was only when he thought about what he just said when Adam realized how big of a fool he made himself look. "Wait a second... no, that was something with my dad. Sorry. But to answer your question, no, I don't remember."

"It was that time you promised to help me get Anna with Kristoff."

Whatever he had been expecting, it wasn't that. Still, she was right, now that his memory was jogged a little bit. He did have that conversation, even though he could barely remember it, for some reason. Especially considering it was only a few days ago (although Adam couldn't really remember that).

 _"I'll play along,"_ he thought. "Oh yeah, that. So what?"

"Well, I have a plan," replied Elsa, the smile returning. It was almost unnerving, in a way. Nevertheless, it gained Adam's complete attention.

"Well, what is it?"

* * *

Adam sat in the stands of the hockey rink, watching the rest of the team practice. The official reason he gave Coach Crane was that he came down with a sudden illness that prevented him from performing strenuous physical activity, but Kristoff, Olaf, and Sven knew the truth; he left his gear at home, and he had no way of getting his parents to drive it over, considering they couldn't drive at all due to their clunker of a car. Sure, he could walk home and grab all his stuff, but practice would probably be over by the time he got back.

Still, none of that was on his mind at the moment. The only thing he could really bring himself to think about was the "plan" Elsa came up with to get Kristoff and Anna to go out or something. The strategy itself was absurd and painfully cliche, and there were only two possible outcomes: success, or complete and utter catastrophe. No in-between.

 _"Still,"_ thought Adam, _"it might work. Might."_

* * *

 ** _"Well, what is it?"_**

 ** _"You both have hockey practice today, right?"_**

 ** _Adam nodded his head. "Yeah. Well, no."_**

 ** _Elsa frowned. "It's a yes or no question, not both."_**

 ** _Adam chuckled. "Relax. I can't really practice today. But I guess I can still show up, even though I won't be skating with the team."_**

 ** _For the third time in the past two minutes, Elsa's smile returned. "Excellent. Now I need you to do something, and this is very important: when you're COMPLETELY certain nobody is nearby, I need you to put this note in Kristoff's locker. Also make sure nobody else reads it before he does," said Elsa as she handed Adam a folded up piece of paper. As much as he tried to avoid the temptation, he couldn't help but open it._**

 ** _"Meet me at the Gold Mountain Peak after practice today. Come alone. Signed, a secret admirer."_**

 ** _Adam facepalmed._**

 ** _"A secret admirer note? Is this seriously the only thing you could think of?"_**

 ** _Elsa pretended to be insulted. "Hey, you can't blame me! Turns out matchmaking is harder than I thought."_**

 ** _It took Adam a few seconds of thinking to finally get himself to ask another question. "The Gold Mountain Peak? Isn't that a..."_**

 ** _Elsa shook her head. "It's a cafe downtown, and it's the most popular around here. It's pretty much a hotspot."_**

 ** _Adam shrugged his shoulders; at least it was apparently a nice place. Still, he simply couldn't get past the ridiculousness of this plan. "I seriously doubt this is gonna work. Kristoff isn't the kind of person to bite on something like this. He's smarter than that."  
_**

 ** _Elsa nodded her head. "I thought that might be the case. Which is why I've also given a note to Anna."_**

 ** _Adam didn't understand. "And..."_**

 ** _"And the thing is, I've already given it to her. I slipped in her locker on Sunday, so she's definitely read it by now."_**

 ** _"Okay, but that still doesn't show how... wait, how did you sneak in the school on Sunday?" asked Adam, legitimately curious._**

 ** _"I went through the ice rink. Why?" replied Elsa._**

 ** _Adam signed. It figured; the ice rink was seemingly always unlocked, as he remembered. It really wasn't a smart decision on the school's part. "Nothing. Anyways, as I was saying, the fact that you've already given her the note doesn't really prove how your plan is going to work."_**

 ** _Now it was Elsa's turn to chuckle, or giggle, or something like that. "Well, you know how Anna and Kristoff share their third hour class? Which is right now, by the way?"_**

 ** _"No." And he wasn't lying. Elsa's face fell._**

 ** _"Oh. Well, they share their third hour class. And I'm sure you've picked up by now how Anna like to ta..."  
_**

 ** _Adam couldn't take it anymore. "Can you please stop with the drama and cut to the chase? Seriously."_**

 ** _Elsa sighed. "Fine. I'm counting on Anna blabbing to all her friends, out loud, that she got a note from a secret admirer, and that Kristoff overhears it. Then, when Kristoff sees later today he also received a note from a secret admirer, they'll both be drawn to the cafe."  
_**

 ** _Adam shook his head. "Something doesn't add up here. I remember you telling me that Anna has a crush on Kristoff. Why would she go squealing about some secret admirer if she's interested in someone else? And I'm sure you know who I mean when I say someone else."  
_**

 ** _Elsa smiled yet again. "Isn't it obvious? She'll assume that it was Kristoff who wrote the note. Hopefully. And the reason I gave Anna her note first is so Kristoff overhears that she got some kind of message from a secret admirer, making him suspicious regarding who wrote his note when he sees it later today. This is so he goes to the cafe guaranteed. The curiosity will be too much."_**

 ** _Adam pondered what he was going to say next very carefully. "Okay, so let me recap, if I got all of this right: You gave Anna a note saying a secret admirer wants to meet her at a cafe. I'm supposed to give Kristoff the same note, but only later in the day, when he may or may not have knowledge that Anna also received a note that has a similar, or in this case identical, message to the note I'm supposed to give Kristoff. And I can't be seen putting the note in his locker."_**

 ** _Elsa smiled and nodded. "Right. Oh, and you can't let yourself be seen by Kristoff after you deliver the note. Don't text him or anything either. Just disappear."_**

 ** _"This is stupid."_**

 ** _Elsa immediately looked angry. "You know what, I'd like to see you..."_**

 ** _Adam burst out laughing. "Relax, relax! I was only joking. In all seriousness, though, do you realize how much needs to fall into place for this to work? This is like shooting a basketball shot blindfolded."_**

 ** _"It's a risk, but the real fools are the ones who don't seize chances. Even if they need a push."_**

 ** _"Who said that?"_**

 ** _"I don't know."_**

 ** _Adam shrugged his shoulders again. "I can't really tell if this plan is genius or insane. But even if it does work, no matter what, there's just a tiny problem. I_** ** _n the event they actually do meet in the cafe, it's gonna be awkward. Seriously."_**

 ** _Elsa smiled_** ** _for the record fifth time. "Oh, that's when we come in."_**

 ** _"Oh, then I guess... wait, what?"_**

* * *

Adam shook his head to himself. For whatever reason, she had refused to tell him anything more beyond that point. According to her, all he had to do was plant this fake note. "Secretly."

With a sigh, the Minnesota native stood up from his seat and headed down the stairs, to the locker room. Everyone was on the ice and focused on the drills they were doing; it was unlikely anyone would see him.

Once he had reached the entrance to the locker room, Adam opened the door as quietly as he could. He was met with a blast of warm air; he hoped nobody on the ice noticed. It didn't look like anyone did.

Breathing another sigh, this one of relief, Adam entered the room and immediately walked over to Kristoff's locker. Working as quickly as possible, he pulled the now slightly crumpled fake admirer's note out of his pocket and put it in the blond's locker stall, being careful to deliberately leave it in a spot he would see it for sure. Once the job was complete, he turned to leave.

 _"How did all of this even come about."_

Nevertheless, once he was back in his seat up in the stands, Adam inwardly gave himself a pat on the back for a job well done. _"Well, the job actually isn't even close to being done yet. But we're getting there."_

Despite this reassurance in his mind, Adam still couldn't shake the feeling that this plan was doomed to fail. There were simply too many factors dependent entirely on chance for him to envision a happy ending. Still, it was at the very least off the ground, and it wasn't entirely because of the note left in the locker...

* * *

 ** _For the most part, lunch passed by as usual at Adam and friends' table. Well, usual for three of them anyways._**

 ** _Adam didn't want to call him out in front of the others, but Kristoff seemed just a bit sullen. It was unusual, as nothing seemed particularly wrong with him not even two class periods ago. Whatever happened during the past hour or so was clearly bothering him._**

 ** _And Adam had a hunch what was bothering him._**

 ** _Finally, while Olaf and Sven were busy having an argument about something, Adam had his chance. He nudged the blond in the side, gaining his attention._**

 ** _"What?"_**

 ** _Adam didn't look up at him, instead speaking quietly to avoid being overhead by Sven and Olaf. "Are you okay? You seem kinda out of it."  
_**

 ** _Kristoff sighed. "Yeah, I'm fine. I just... heard something."_**

 ** _Adam could barely believe it. "Heard what?"_**

 ** _Now it was Kristoff's turn to drop his volume. "I'm not sure about the details, but I heard Anna talking about a note or something she got from someone she doesn't know. You know, kinda like a secret admirer. But when she said that, she looked at me and giggled, and then stopped talking. I sure didn't write it, though."_**

 ** _Adam remained stoic. He had to for the plan to work._**

 ** _"I wish I knew, man."_**

* * *

The sharp ring of the whistle startled Adam out of his thoughts, as Coach Crane signaled for the team to gather round down at the ice.

"Alright, listen up! We've got a game tomorrow. If you didn't know that, we're in trouble. Report here around 7:00. Now get out of here."

After the typical goodbye from their coach, the team disbanded and headed to the locker room. Adam also went down to join them, but he purposely trailed behind everyone, so he could get a bird's-eye view of everything going on in the locker room.

It was now or never. Kristoff had to be the first person to see the fake note. If someone like Olaf picked it up first, it would be chaos.

Adam stood against the door frame as Kristoff walked to his locker stall. Slowly.

As soon as he reached his stall, he grabbed the collar of his practice jersey to remove it. He stopped, however, when he saw... a piece of paper? Whatever it was, it wasn't there when he was at his locker before practice began.

With a shrug to himself, the blond reached into his locker to read it.

His eyes grew wide.

As soon as he finished looking at the paper, Kristoff quickly glanced all around the locker room, to see if anyone else was watching him, as if this was some kind of prank.

No one was.

* * *

 **"Goodbye for now!"**

 **Well, that was completely insane. Still, I had a ton of fun writing this chapter, not gonna lie. I know the entire plan seems completely ridiculous, but that's kind of the point. This was only an introduction to what's coming in the next (hopefully longer) chapter anyways, so... yeah. Fun.**

 **Have a nice day.**


End file.
